


Caregiver

by Raven_Ehtar



Series: Loki's Brood [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Feels, FrostIron - Freeform, Gen, Loki's Kids, M/M, Parent Loki, Parent Tony Stark, Pre-Slash, Protective Tony Stark, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 16:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Ehtar/pseuds/Raven_Ehtar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki pops in unexpectedly to drop off his three kids on Tony, expecting him to watch over them while he's gone on a mission. Tony is unprepared for what three spawn of Loki can dish out, or for the underlying meaning of Loki trusting him with his offspring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caregiver

**Author's Note:**

> There is a long road to explain how I came to write about Loki's kids. Suffice it to say that it started with 'The Ironmonger's Heart' and looped back to here. I fell in love with these kids and by extension how they would play in the dynamic of a Tony/Loki relationship. I'm planning for this to be a long(ish) series, of which this right here is Part One. Anything before this earns the title of 'prequel.' 
> 
> **Historian’s Note:** This series takes place after Phase One. Anything post The Avengers is not taken into account.
> 
>  **Soundtrack:** ‘[Loki's Brood](http://8tracks.com/raven-ehtar/loki-s-brood)' on 8tracks

  
__

### Dawn.

__

* * *

Tony Stark was not a morning person.

To be fair, neither was he much of an afternoon, evening or night person when it came to waking up. It all depended on when he’d managed to drag his ass off to bed that dictated when he was likely to surface again. He ran on how many hours of sleep he’d gotten rather than where the sun was. So long as he got a certain number of hours – usually around six or so with the occasional eight or ten for when he was particularly drained – then he could be an early bird with as much ease as a night owl. If he didn’t get that bare minimum amount of rest, however, he had a tendency to wake up cranky, acidly sarcastic and potentially homicidal, depending on the method of his waking and who was responsible for it.

So when someone decided to wake him from a sound sleep at 5:52am after he had stumbled his way to his pillows somewhere around 3am, by cuffing him sharply over the head, Tony felt justified in the amount of cursing and murderous – though completely ineffectual – flailing he exited his dreams with. 

Whoever it was that struck him either had enough sense or enough experience in waking him that they managed to avoid Tony’s half-conscious attempt at revenge. In his fog, Tony assumed that it was Pepper. It was far too early to be up, his own internal clock and the pale light streaming in the windows were enough to tell him that without the aid of a clock, and Pep was one of the few people he knew who would dare try. Happy wouldn’t; Rhodey might; some of his so called team might, and since they lived in the Tower with as him on occasion now, each with their own floor, it made it easier for them to try. Except that JARVIS would have locked all of those potential candidates out. The AI’s protocols would have prevented any sort of intrusion until after he’d woken up, and if anyone had managed to somehow break past that, JARVIS still would have given him warning. Pepper was the only one who had a way to override the AI without setting off a multitude of alarms. Though she usually refrained when he left it on as high a privacy setting as he had last night. She knew better than to poke a sleeping bear for kicks.

Tony scrubbed at his face, feeling like death. He needed coffee, or perhaps caffeine in a syringe, just cut out the middle man and inject it straight into his bloodstream.

“God, what is it, Pep?” he asked, still rubbing at his eyes. Or where his eyes had once been, they felt like hollows in his head filled with sand just now. “Is the city on fire or something? Because that is the only reason I can think of to wake me at the crack of dawn. And I thought we were trying for more pleasant ways of getting me to cooperate, weren’t we?”

The voice that answered him was familiar, _very_ familiar. Tony froze, certain that any sudden moves would make for a very painful, possibly terminal start to his day. “I doubt that you would be quite so willing to accept more pleasant methods from me, Stark,” the voice said, a silky baritone Tony had not expected to hear again for a very long time, if ever.

He looked up slowly, much more awake now, and horribly aware of his vulnerable position, flat on his back in bed in nothing but his boxers and a tank top he’d stripped down to before passing out. His suits were a long way off; even the thin bracelets that could call a suit to him were in the next room. There was the panic button, a building-wide alarm he’d put in place since the Chitauri invasion and subsequent additions of the ‘Avengers floors.’ Just in case of emergencies, there were several switches on each floor that would alert the rest of the building of a problem. After hitting it, JARVIS could then be relied on to provide details, such as the nature of the threat and where it was located. With this particular threat, though, Tony wasn’t sure he wanted four or five bleary eyed teammates charging in, especially if JARVIS was down – which would seem to be the case, since he hadn’t been alerted – and couldn’t brief them on what to expect. 

Standing over him, looking even taller than he remembered thanks to their relative positions and still wearing the helm with the slender, curving horns, was Loki, God of Mischief himself. He was watching him with what Tony would have called a mixed expression. He seemed to be smiling – not the gloating smile of one who’d gotten the drop on an enemy, but one that appeared genuinely amused. At the same time, his body language and something about his eyes suggested that he was exasperated. He knew that look; he’d seen it on Pepper quite often. Come to think of it, he’d seen it on a lot of people who had reason to deal with him. But it wasn’t one he would have expected on Loki, even had he expected the Asgardian at all. 

The alien cocked his head to a side, the golden horns of his helm glinting in the young sunlight. “I am not your woman, come to rouse you to break your fast, nor have I the time to make play that I am.”

That was enough to make Tony pause and thank his lucky stars. The idea of Loki taking on the form of someone he trusted – something Thor’s tales had assured him Loki was very capable of doing – was enough to give him nightmares. “Pepper isn’t anyone’s ‘woman’,” he groaned, rolling up to a sitting position to play that he was unconcerned about Loki’s presence. “And I doubt she would bother trying to stuff food down my gullet unless I’d gone several days without first.”

Loki snorted in response, and then turned his back on Tony to stride back to his bedroom door, which was still partway open, and peeked out at something beyond Tony’s line of sight. 

Tony wondered about that, but only briefly before taking the opportunity to look around himself and take stock of his advantages – anything and everything near enough to him that could help, however slightly, in fighting off a peeved God with a grudge. A very fast but detailed sweep confirmed what he had thought before: he was screwed. Nothing whatsoever within grabbing distance would have the least effect on Loki, save perhaps as a distraction or to baffle him as he tried to work out why Tony thought a discarded collared shirt should be threatening. 

So he fell back on the one resource he had: his mouth. “So,” he said, trying for nonchalance. “What are you doing back in this neck of the woods? I’d heard from your brother you had some big trial or whatnot to attend at your fancy palace in the sky. Something about ‘atrocious deeds’ and ‘dishonorable conduct’?”

“You are correct,” Loki said stiffly, turning back around to face him.

Tony shrugged. “So how’d that work out for you?” He was honestly curious about this. He wasn’t at all sure how such things worked in Asgard, and whenever he asked Thor about it the big guy got uncharacteristically solemn and withdrawn, refusing to say anything more than it was going better for Loki than he had hoped. Knowing how he felt about his brother, Tony assumed that ‘better’ still meant ‘bad.’ Not that he felt too terribly bad about that – there were still parts of New York conspicuously bare of skyline – and he knew that the folks at S.H.I.E.L.D. would wet themselves for the chance at getting their paws on the rebel God. 

Green eyes narrowed at him. “Better, perhaps, than could be expected by the standard measures of mercy of Asgard. Sentences were passed, extents of repentance made clear, provisions made, one or two special dispensations doled out… in fact, that is why I am here. Are you fully awake now, Stark?”

Surprised, and in no small amount confused, Tony stared. Loki was here as a result of his trial? What in hell’s name could have been decided there that would have Loki in full battle gear – he was decked out from helm to armor to boots – _in his bedroom_? Was this some kind of weird Asgardian duel thing? It was early enough for it. 

“That depends,” he said warily. “What’s expected of me, here?”

“Quite possibly too much,” Loki shot back with distaste. “Are you sufficiently cogent to stand, walk, listen, and on the outside hope, remote as it may be, comprehend what is said to you?”

“Uh… I guess so?” He was even more confused now. Loki was dressed for battle, in his bedroom at the break of dawn, and he wanted to _talk_? It beat pounding him to a Tony-pulp, but why?

Loki nodded curtly. “Good. Then unless your attire is the current fashion in Midgard, I suggest you find a pair of trousers and put them on, then follow me.” He turned smartly on his heel, his cloak billowing out behind him in overly dramatic fashion, and made to exit.

“Wait a sec, what the hell is going on? You barge in at this hour and expect me to just follow your orders like some sort of medieval serf or something? After what you did here?” Maybe it was the confusion, maybe it was the fact that it was way too early in the morning to be dealing with this kind of crap, but Tony wasn’t quite as frozen as he had been immediately upon awaking. It might have just been the fact that Loki had yet to and did not seem particularly disposed towards annihilating him on the spot. Plus he’d never been very good at keeping his mouth shut; even, (especially), when it would be better if he had. 

For his part, Loki did not fully turn back to Tony at his outburst, only tilted his head to glare back at him over his shoulder. “What I expect,” he said, voice strained, “is for you to mistrust me, as well you should, to attempt reasoning out in your limited way why I am here, and to desperately plan for how to best defend yourself should I become… _unfriendly_. Perhaps you are also plotting how best to take me into custody, regardless of my conduct, and hand me over to that ridiculous organization of yours – S.H.I.E.L.D.? – but I doubt it. You are far from being a sycophantic subordinate. I _expect_ your curiosity to drive you to obey me, however I choose to couch my directions, be they as demands or requests. I do _not_ expect you,” his tone hardened, his stare became steely, “to kick your feet as a petulant child if answers are not handed to you quickly enough. Now,” he faced the door again. “My time is limited, I am already behind schedule and would appreciate as few delays as possible. If you intend to alert your infernal team, I ask that you do so _after_ I’ve explained the situation to you.”

Before Tony could protest, Loki pushed the door open and strode out into Tony’s living room.

Tony stared after him, thoroughly befuddled and not at all positive that he was really awake. This all felt like some twisted kind of dream, except in dreams he usually didn’t feel this tired. 

He shook his head, sighing. Trying to understand Loki was like trying to turn your own brain inside out, with much the same result in terms of cognitive ability afterwards. But he hadn’t so much as threatened Tony yet, and there was no reason to call him out into the living room if all he wanted was to pummel him. So Tony would assume he was, for the time being, reasonably safe. 

Getting up with a slight stumble – adrenaline or not, he still had only had a little less than three hours of sleep – he grabbed the first pair of pants he could find and shoved his legs into them. They were an old pair of dark gray sweats, and they hung too low on his hips, but Loki had said nothing about being presentable, only that he wore pants. For that same reason he decided against finding a shirt; that and it seemed like too much work. As it was he almost fell over trying to organize his legs into the sweats. 

Gods, he needed coffee.

Tony stepped out of his bedroom, rumpled and grumpy and fully intending to make a beeline for the coffeepot, whatever it was Loki intended to dump on him. He had something important to say, he could make an appointment or do it while he was sucking down some hot caffeine, dammit. He got as far in his planned snarky comment as, “I hope whatever this is about doesn’t require an immediate response—“ then stopped. He was reasonably certain every lucid thought he had stopped as well at the sight of what awaited him in his living room.

There stood Loki, looking far too large in his horned helm, leather and gleaming metal armor and full cloak in such a prosaic setting at a living room, couches and entertainment system visible over his shoulder. But Tony had been expecting that, and it wasn’t Loki himself that made the railways of his brain come to a screeching halt. The expression he wore was a little unexpected. He would have thought Loki would look coy, or smug, or even pissed as a holdover from the last thing he’d said to Tony in the bedroom, but instead he almost looked… shamefaced. 

It probably had something to do with what – or rather, _who_ stood next to him. 

Three children, two boys and a girl, all of them about seven years old, stood in a line like soldiers standing for inspection by Loki’s knee.

The one nearest to Loki was the girl, though Tony was making an assumption on the child’s gender, as it was wearing a dark blue hooded sweatshirt two sizes too big for it, with the hood pulled up and head pressed as far back into it as possible. It was probably a girl, though, as the hair that tumbled out from the hood was very long, raven black, and the small bit of face that peeked up at him out of shadows and mane was pale and delicate; a little pixie face. She stuck close to Loki’s side, from appearances debating whether or not she could get away with hiding under his cloak, but settling for holding a fistful of the material in her small hand instead. 

Next in line was one of the boys, who looked up at Tony’s not with the same shyness as the girl, but with an almost blank expression, like he was staring at a wall. It was a little unnerving coming from a child, only heightened by the fact that the kid’s eyes were a very pale, icy blue, almost white. His hair, what little there was, was blond, but clipped close to his head so only a fine fuzz remained. He wore jeans, sneakers, and what looked like a promotional tee shirt from a library. 

The last child, rather than being either shy or blank, looked at Tony with a sort of belligerency, as though Tony were some other little brat he meant to pick a fight with. In fact, everything about the last kid practically screamed ‘troublemaker.’ Where the clothing of the other two children, whether ill fitted or free handouts, was at least clean and in good repair, the clothes on this one were all dirty, rumpled and torn. Tee shirt with racing stripes, jeans, even his shoes looked worn around the edges. He had medium length hair that stuck out at all angles, and was dirty blond. His eyes… Tony’s mind insisted they were a very pale hazel. Because that was easier to process than ‘yellow’ or ‘gold.’

Not quite knowing how to respond, Tony went with his first instinct. He waved a hand at the three kids and turned back on Loki. “What the… what are _these_?”

Loki, who’d been watching him closely as he examined the kids, appeared displeased at his rejoinder. The Asgardian’s mouth thinned slightly and he put a long fingered hand on the little girl’s shoulder, who pressed herself closer to him, what little of her face that could be seen almost being lost in Loki’s cloak. “ _These_ ,” he spat back, using the same inflection Tony had used, “are my children.”

Some part of Tony’s mind, he was sure, was absorbing all of this just fine. It was taking each fact in calmly, and even if it wasn’t all being immediately examined, then it was at least being filed and organized for future scrutiny, all very efficient and orderly and not at all panicked. Tony was not in direct contact with this portion of his brain, however, and as a means of self-preservation the rest simply shut down again. Or possibly more. 

“What?”

“These are my children, Stark,” he repeated, enunciating clearly and slowly. “This,” he tapped the girl’s hood, “is Hela. This,” he motioned to the blank faced boy, “is Jörmungandr. And this,” the troublemaker, “is Fenrir.”

The boys each gave him a polite little half bow, and the girl managed a tiny curtsy while still holding on to Loki’s cloak. 

“Children, this is Mr. Tony Stark, who is sometimes the warrior Iron Man.”

The kids all stared at him. Feeling awkward and as though something were expected of him, Tony held up a hand. “Uh, hi there, kids.”

The children just continued to stare, one shyly, one blankly, and one combatively. Deciding to give it up as a bad experiment to see who could outstare who, Tony turned back to Loki. 

“Okay, the whole 'kids' thing was unexpected, not going to lie,” he began, not even sure what was coming out of his mouth at this point. “But whatever. Your own thing, can understand why it never came up on your last visit. Little less certain why Thor never mentioned it. But… _why are they here_?”

Loki straightened from where he’d stooped to introduce his children. “As I have said, Stark, there are certain punishments lain on me as resulting from my trial; certain tasks to be performed as repentance. I cannot bring my offspring with me as the peril is too great, so I must find and designate a temporary guardian. That is my purpose this morn, and, again, as I have said I am late in beginning.”

For a moment Tony was working through the ramifications of ‘tasks of repentance’ and didn’t comprehend the conclusion of Loki’s explanation. When he did, it hit him like a wet sack of bricks. “You want me to _babysit_ for you?”

“I believe that is the correct human term.”

He stared at the three kids again, who abruptly looked more menacing than they had a moment before, either because he now knew that they were _Loki’s_ or because they were rapidly becoming _his_ problem. He’d never babysat in his life, had barely interacted with children of any description, and now he was getting _three_ to take care of? Not even human kids, these were at the very least half Asgardian, so who knew what he could expect out of them? Hell, they were each half _Loki_ , and that alone should be enough to send anyone screaming for the nearest planet that wasn’t this one. 

“Okay, I’m still kinda getting a handle on the whole, ‘Loki has kids’ thing,” he babbled, recognizing the note of panic that was slipping into his voice. “But… you want me to babysit your kids? Why _me_?”

“Do not feel unduly flattered, Stark,” the God growled at him. “The situation is far from ideal, but you are the least out of a host of unpalatable choices. There are few I could, never mind _would_ entrust them to. You are one of the very few remaining who has the means to protect them and whom I trust not to experiment upon them while I’m gone.”

“I’m so honored,” Tony managed faintly. “But as you say, I’m not the only one who meets those criteria. Surely Thor…”

Loki’s lip curled and he waved a hand dismissively, though to Tony’s surprise he didn’t proceed to tear his brother down. He wondered if that might have something to do with the kids standing and listening by his knee, not wanting to badmouth their uncle in front of them. “I will not get into the particulars of why I chose you, Stark. I have neither the time nor the patience. You have been chosen as their temporary guardian, and as such I am entrusting you with their safety and wellbeing. I have left a note for you in case you have any questions,” he motioned towards the coffee table in the middle of the room, where Tony could see a curled bit of parchment that looked far too small to have covered all the questions currently racing through his mind. When he turned back Loki was crouched down in front of his kids, who had mercifully switched their attention away from Tony to focus on their father. He spoke to them, though Tony couldn’t make out what was being said at all. Whatever it was, it got them each to nod at least once. Tony hoped it wasn’t instructions to try and bring down the Tower while he was gone.

When he stood again Tony felt a vague panic that had been building suddenly become very sharp and real. Was Loki _really_ going to leave him alone with three kids? _His_ three kids?

If Loki recognized the look of abject terror that came over Tony’s face, he didn’t react to it. “I will be back to collect them once my task is completed,” he promised. And then he disappeared. 

“No, nonono, wait-!” But it was far too late. Tony was left in his Tower, at 6:15am in little more than his skivvies, staring down three kids all aged somewhere between six and eight, who were giving him a look that said they were sizing him up.

Tony had never babysat in his life. He’d never needed to earn cash nor had thought it a necessary experience to pick up on his way to adulthood. When it came to children he had more or less the same policy he had with bobcats or other people’s dogs: they may look like fun, but keep your hands to yourself and move along. They were always someone else’s problem. But despite his ignorance and complete lack of personal experience, Tony was aware that the first five minutes or so were what would set the tone for the entire job. Maybe popular media had something to do with his knowing that, maybe he’d overheard it somewhere, or maybe he was just assuming it was true here as it seemed to be the case in every other interrelations situation he’d ever been in. 

In a staring contest with Loki’s kids, Tony had the distinct impression that he was losing alpha points already. They could probably see the terror in his eyes even better than their father had, since they were the ones who’d instigated it. Only one clear thought scurried across his mind, feeling embarrassed for being the only one there:

_Oh, crap. What now?_

“Well,” he said, clapping his hands and feeling the sweat beginning to prickle along his hairline. “Who wants some breakfast?”

The girl – what was her name? Hela? – ducked her head so what little of her face he’d been able to see before was hidden, while the two boys glanced at each other with a look that was recognizable even to someone as kid-inexperienced as Tony.

An instant later both of the boys had run off, only the sounds of giggles left behind, then in the distance a slamming door. The girl shuffled her feet.

Tony grumbled and rubbed his eyes. He needed coffee.

* * *

__

### 9:08am

__

* * *

“Pepper! Thank God, you’re finally answering your phone!”

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice, other than being one of the most beautiful, comforting sounds Tony could possibly conceive at that moment, sounded equally confused and worried. “I was in a meeting. What’s going on? You never call me this early in the morning. That’s usually my thing.”

“I know, I know, but I’ve got a bit of a situation here and could use some help.”

“What kind of situation?” Instantly Pepper sounded in control, competent. She’d worked for and with Tony and Stark Industries for years, so she could think on her feet and worked well – fabulously – under pressure. Tony knew he could throw practically any sort of scenario her way and she would handle all with equal measures of composure and practicality.

Tony cast a rueful eye over his Tower ‘apartment’. This might be stretching it, even for her. 

He tried downplaying. “Oh, nothing to warrant bringing in the rest of the rock band, if you catch my drift, but… well. I’m at the Tower and I in need some supplies, and I can’t leave the premises for the moment.”

“Why not get one of your assistants to make a run for you? Or have JARVIS put in an order?”

Because he’d recently had JARVIS – who was still functional, praise be, whatever Loki had done to get in the Tower without tripping alarms hadn’t broken the AI – dedicate all of his circuits to keeping tabs on the three hellions running rampant in his Tower. At first he’d just had JARVIS make sure that all the doors to sensitive or dangerous areas were locked down tight, things like the lab, the suits and such, and then on further thought he’d included things like elevators and the liquor cabinet on the list. Then on even further thought he’d rigged up some locks for all of the low cupboards in his kitchen and bathroom, and then had run – literally – from room to room, putting anything valuable, breakable or poisonous out of reach. During that frantic hour and a half Tony had come to realize that his living areas were singularly un-kid-friendly, but since it had never been an issue before he didn’t feel particularly abashed at his lack of preparation.

And all of that had been while he was still been operating under the assumption that the triplets – he could only assume that’s what they were, they looked so close to the same age – were more or less like human kids. They had yet to demonstrate their more _exciting_ talents by that point. 

“Hey, put that down, it is _not_ a chew toy!”

“Tony?”

“Sorry, Pep.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. It was only nine and he was getting a migraine. On the other hand, it was nine and he _still_ hadn’t had his coffee. “Yeah, JARVIS isn’t really viable right now, and I’d rather not have the drones picking up what I need. You know how tongues wag and all that.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line as Pepper absorbed that. Tony wondered what kind of picture she was piecing together as to what was going on. “Alright. What is it you need?”

Tony exhaled, and snatched the list he’d drawn up. “Got a pencil handy? First I’m going to need you to stop at a pet supply shop. From there we’re going to need a dozen chew toys, a few packs of piddle pads, several of those chewy bone things for dogs, two dozen mice and a kennel.”

“Uh, Tony…?”

“Actually, scratch the kennel,” Tony said, thinking better of it. As tempting as it was, he didn’t relish the idea of what would happen if Loki found out he’d locked up one of his sons in a pet taxi. “Next I need you to stop at some kind of toy store. Pick up anything and everything that looks like it would be good for kids between ages five and ten. Anything that doesn’t make noise,” he added in a flash of genius. “Toys, games, hobby sets, books; three of everything.”

“Tony—“ 

“I mean it, three of everything.” One thing he’d learned from movies and sappy daytime television was that kids fight over everything. Having three of every toy ought to fix that problem before it started. “Then find some place that sells children’s clothing. Five to ten range again, boy’s and girl’s. Let’s see… Six complete outfits in each size for boys and three for girls. That should cover it.”

“Tony! What on earth are you doing that you would need all of this? Are you starting some kind of petting zoo / nursery racket?”

Pepper was being flippant, which meant she was starting to get worried. When she was _really_ worried then she would get abusive. Still, he didn’t have the time to explain everything now, as much as that would piss her off. “Pepper, I will explain everything when you get here, I promise, but for now—“ The sound of something tearing assaulted Tony’s ears. He groaned. “For now, could you please just pick up the supplies and get here?”

She sighed, but his exhaustion must have made it across the line, because she softened somewhat. “Alright. But you owe me a _full_ explanation when I get there, Tony.”

“As full as I’m able,” was all he could promise.

“Right. Is this everything?”

He thought about it for a minute. “One more thing, a heating pad. The biggest one you can find, best if it has multiple settings. The more sensitive the better.”

“Right. I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Oh, wait! Pep?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you bring me a coffee?”

* * *

__

### 10:33am

__

* * *

“Oh, you are the most beautiful woman in all the worlds and I would marry you, but you might kill me if I tried,” Tony burbled, snatching the disposable paper cup full of delicious wake up juice. Black and triple strength, it tasted like heaven and fireworks as his synapses finally began to fire up and function.

Pepper, who would normally at least give him a pity smile for such a garbled outpouring of affection for his most favorite drink, (that didn’t involve alcohol), looked too put out and harried to make the effort. “Tony, what the hell? Why do I have a truck full of mice and children’s toys downstairs and why did I have to override JARVIS’s security protocols to get to this floor? And why did you have me bring you coffee when you have a thousand dollar setup for any kind of coffee you could possibly want in your kitchen? And why – what the hell is that?”

Tony opened his eyes, coming out of his caffeine cloud, and saw that Pepper’s gaze had locked on to something behind him, and she had gone very still, like the proverbial deer in headlights.

He turned around, already certain of what he would see.

His apartment – it was really an entire floor of the Tower, but whatever – had received some pretty extensive redecorating since dawn. Several of his lesser prized books had been drug off of shelves and shredded, plus one that had been greatly prized but which Tony had been too slow to rescue. One of his nice leather couches had a few rough patches in its sides as though a cat had been clawing at it, and at least one of the cushions had been torn into and all of its stuffing had been scattered over the floor. One small sneaker was in view, though Tony knew there were three more lying around somewhere. He’d had enough trouble trying to keep track of the feet and children attached to them to worry about the shoes. There were also quite a few colored pens and pencils laying around – all technical rather than artistic – from a misguided attempt on Tony’s part to get the boys to settle down and try drawing. There were a few other things laying around, but he was fairly certain what had caught Pepper’s attention was the large, constrictor-like snake on the floor, staring up at her with cold, ice blue eyes.

He’d been expecting ‘weird’ out of the triplets since they had been dropped in his lap. In fact, ‘weird’ had been on the low end of the spectrum for what he thought might happen, with ‘total obliteration of the cosmos’ being on the high end. They were Loki’s spawn, after all. So when they just seemed to be overly energetic and destructive, he’d almost been relieved. And in actuality, only the boys had been the real issue, and only one of them to an excessive amount. He’d let himself breathe a little easier, thinking he’d dodged a bullet. That had been a comforting little illusion that had been shattered as soon as the shape shifting has started.

Now, what had once been Yormanglath, (or whatever the kid’s name was), was a white and yellow serpent about five feet long who somehow still managed to wriggle into tiny areas it was hard to dig him out of again. Tony wasn’t sure how parallel the growing cycle was between the kid’s human and snake shapes, but if they were at all proportionate and he was five feet as a serpent already he was going to be a monster when he hit adulthood. At the moment he was peeking around the corner leading from the entryway to the living room and kitchen, the oddly human eyes staring up at Pepper as fixedly as she was staring at him. Tony rolled his eyes, exasperated. He’d spent the last ten minutes cajoling, bargaining and bribing the reptile, trying to convince him to come out from behind the oven. 

“That’s a snake,” he said blandly, taking another sip from his cup of caffeinated ambrosia.

Pepper did not take her eyes off of the serpent when she replied. “I can _see_ that, what is it doing here? Is- is this why you wanted the mice? Did I just buy two dozen snake snacks?”

Tony shrugged. “That depends on whether or not he has a taste for small furry things that squeak. As for why he’s here, that’s a story I don’t claim to fully understand myself. Where are the supplies, by the way?”

“Downstairs, in the truck, in the parking terminal,” she said impatiently. “If you want it up here we’re going to have to have some of ‘the drones’ load it into the elevator and send it up, then we can unload it, Tony, _what is going on_?”

It was all said in a single, rushed breath. Tony looked at her again, and realized that she hadn’t moved at all since she’d come in, which was out of character for her. Normally she would be going hyperkinetic in her frustration and Tony’s less than cooperative replies, but instead she’d pretty much frozen, not even her face moving. Tony frowned, looked back at Yormander, who had also frozen in place, still staring straight at Pepper.

“Pep… are you ophidiophobic?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she snapped, still not taking her eyes off of the transformed boy. “That’s a general fear of snakes. _Anyone_ would be freaked out by this!”

Ah ha. Well, there was something about Pep he hadn’t known before. He doubted it would be very useful knowledge, but you never knew. 

Before he could come up with an appropriate response, he heard a small thump, and then the by-now familiar pitter patter of little feet. Pep’s eyes flicked up, widened in surprise, and then went back down again. When Tony looked back again, Hela, who had been seated quietly at the kitchen island playing with a tablet, had padded over to her brother and bent down to murmur something to him. Apparently Pepper hadn’t seen the girl before, and the sight of her so close to the large snake seemed to have her shaken. Tony for his own part was straining to hear what Hela was saying, but could only make out ‘scaring her.’ 

The snake-boy turned his flat, triangular head towards the girl, and Tony could swear the reptile looked surprised. It was pretty impressive for a face with no eyebrows. A little forked tongue flickered out at the girl. She nodded solemnly and began gathering up her brother in her arms like he was a pile of laundry.

Pepper unfroze enough to take a step forward, a hand out. “Little girl, be careful! Snakes can be dangerous!”

Hela, her scaly sibling half draped over one shoulder, looped in her small arms and tail trailing along the floor, turned her face towards the older woman. Half of her face, anyway. Tony had only seen the right side, the left having been constantly covered by her long hair and the hood she refused to put down. The stare she leveled at Pep with her single visible eye – green, he realized, like her father – was intense enough that Pepper actually took a step back. “My brother,” she said, her voice grave and lisping, “would never hurt me.” And she turned on her heel – again just like her father – and walked out of sight, a reptilian head watching them until Hela turned a corner. 

For a moment Pepper and Tony remained silent, nonplussed. Tony spoke up first. “Well, kudos. _I_ haven’t been able to get her to talk all morning. I was beginning to think she was a mute.”

Pepper ran a hand through her hair. Tony recognized the look on her face, he was pretty sure he’d been wearing it all day. “Tony, please tell me you haven’t done anything stupid. Or illegal. Or both. Why are there kids in the Tower? Kids playing with dangerous animals?”

“Long story.”

“I’ll clear my schedule.”

“I don’t understand most of it myself.”

“Beats what I have now.”

Tony sighed. There was no way to avoid trying to explain, but he hadn’t really expected there to be. “Alright. But let’s get the supply line started. I’ll talk as we unpack.”

By the time everything made its way upstairs and was toted inside the minimum distance before being dumped on the first available surface to present itself, which was usually the floor, Tony had explained the whole situation as far as he understood it himself, including the parts with him trying to wrangle three kids, two of whom weren’t even bipedal half the time. Pepper, after the first incredulous stare that the news of Loki being back earned, seemed to be taking everything more or less in stride. Which wasn’t to say that she entirely believed all she was being told. Pepper had the marvelous ability to go along with whatever was being told to her until an opportunity arose where she could disembark, either by debunking everything said or simply by walking away. Tony thought she was really beginning to balk when he got to the part where the two boys could shape shift – thankfully while somehow retaining their clothes in the process so they weren’t nude when they changed back. But then the other boy – Fredrick? Fendril? – wandered in, spotted Pepper, and loped straight over to investigate, transforming halfway across the room.

It was weird to watch the kids shift, and not just because it was odd for a seven year old boy to suddenly become a five foot snake or a hyperactive puppy – although he suspected the ‘puppy’ was really a ‘cub.’ No, it was strange because it wasn’t anything like he would have expected. Thankfully there wasn’t anything like sloughing skin, crunching bones or bleeding orifices that seemed to be the norm in modern horror flicks. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to handle that once, much less how many times the kids had shifted back and forth. No, it was because while he was watching as closely as he could, and he’d had plenty of chances to by now, he could never seem to catch the actual instant of transformation. The kid would be moving along as normal, and would begin to arrange themselves in a more natural position for their animal; in this case, the boy went from running on two legs to bending down to run on feet and hands. Just as his hands were about to touch the floor… Tony’s eyes seemed to spasm, his vision flickered, and when he could see properly again there was an overgrown canine pup rushing towards Pepper, pink tongue lolling and tail wagging.

The eye thing happened every single time, so he knew it couldn’t be coincidence, but he couldn’t figure out what was causing it. He hated to say ‘magic’ because it sounded like a convenient excuse to not figure it out, even if it really was true. 

This being the first time Pepper had seen the shape shifting in action, she was taking it less in stride than she had when just hearing about it. In fact, he should probably do something about the panic attack she seemed to suddenly be on the verge of.

The cub had charged right up to her, winding his way through the maze of boxes full of toys and clothes, and was snuffling at her legs, tail wagging madly. Pepper was trying to back away from him but was blocked by the piles of supplies. It looked like she wanted to kick him away but was holding back by a Herculean effort. “Tony, call him off, please,” she said, her words clipped off and hard. 

He couldn’t help it. It had been a long morning that had started far too early, and the sight of Pepper retreating from a puppy was too adorable, wolf cub or not. “Aw, but he seems to like you, Pep. Look at how excited he is! It’s puppy love.”

Pepper glared at him, but the cub settled down, sitting down right at her feet and panting, tail still going a mile a minute. “Do you not have _any_ control over these children?”

“Not really. What do you think the piddle pads are for?”

Now it was the cub that turned to glare at him, his ears lying back flat against his skull. Yellow eyes suited him much better as a wolf cub, Tony decided. Much less disturbing. He shrugged at the cub. “What? I showed you where the bathroom was. You don’t want me to embarrass you in front of pretty girls then use the toilet instead of the tiles.”

The cub snorted at him, then trotted away disdainfully, if a seven year old boy / puppy could be said to do anything disdainfully. Tony actually felt a little proud of himself, as ridiculous and childish as it was. He preened a little, sipping his coffee and feeling more awake than he had all morning.

Pepper pursed her lips at him. “That was a little mean, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, come on, Pep,” he protested. “Look around! Does it really look like _I’m_ the one dishing out the suffering, here?”

“He’s just a kid, Tony. How old is he, eight at most? It’s unfair to pick on him.”

He stared at her. “I’m sorry, are you _defending_ the shape shifting offspring of Loki? Did I miss something, here, or have you always been this kindly disposed towards the downtrodden and freaky and I just didn’t notice?”

“I’ve been your advocate for years, haven’t I?”

“Ouch. And I am _not_ downtrodden.”

“Maybe not, but you make faces like you are.”

He deliberately pouted at her, sticking out his lower lip as far as it would go. Pep finally loosened up enough to crack a smile and Tony felt like he could relax a bit more.

“Hey, when did Stark Tower become a baby goods outlet?”

Pepper turned around and Tony tilted past the stacks of boxes and spilling supplies to see Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton wending their way from the elevator, navigating the small maze that had grown up in Tony’s living space. They were both in their ‘at home’ gear, which was more comfortable than their office duds. It must have been a weekend for them, too. They were both eyeing the boxes stuffed with clothes and games and dog chew toys with open curiosity.

Tony groaned, quietly. He’d hoped to keep at least these two in the dark as to what was going on until it was over. It’s not that he didn’t trust _them_ , but their connection to S.H.I.E.L.D. was more pervasive than anyone else’s and they would probably feel the need to report the situation back to HQ. He really didn’t want to have to deal with Fury riding his ass about harboring an enemy’s offspring, or try and explain how it had happened. For one he wasn’t sure he could, and for another he _knew_ he wasn’t going to. So far as he was concerned, anything that didn’t _come_ from S.H.I.E.L.D., or that he was doing that didn’t endanger the public was none of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s fucking business. Call it his ‘inability to work with others’ still coming through hot and strong, but what he did on his own time was between himself and the mirror he would have to face later. 

Unfortunately, Clint and Natasha were pretty much a hotline back to S.H.I.E.L.D. and the man with the eye patch, Natasha in particular. Or possibly Clint was just more discreet about his reporting in. In any case, however much he liked them individually, he always felt like they were Fury’s little wire taps on his life.

And it was his fault they were here now, really. In getting the supplies up, Tony had JARVIS relax the security on the elevator, and then forgotten to reset it while he was busy relating everything that was going on to Pepper.

Too late now, it would seem.

“This morning!” Tony called back cheerfully, the caffeine doing wonders on his ability to slap on a big BS grin. “Decided to diversify in a big way, take a few markets by storm. What do you think?”

Clint picked up a rawhide chew toy in the shape of a bone and smirked with confusion. “I think you’ve got some pretty weird hobbies, man. What set off this little business venture?”

“Are these mice?” Natasha interjected, eyes fixed on something out of Tony’s line of sight.

“If they’re small, furry, white and brown and in a plastic carrier with cedar shavings, then yes, those are mice. Or they were the last time I saw them.” Considering the amount of shape shifting he’d seen in the last few hours, it was a reasonable _enough_ possibility to point that out. _They_ might be normal mice, but with the spawn of a powerful magician running around, who knew what might happen? “As for what triggered all of this… that might take some explaining.”

Which he’d already done once with Pepper. He could already see how this could get very old, very quickly if he had to do this with every team member – and possibly Fury, though he lived in hope that wouldn’t happen. 

Natasha and Clint were giving him identical expectant looks. Tony looked over at Pepper imploringly, but she immediately backed away, raising her hands and shaking her head. He couldn’t blame her. He had trouble explaining it and he’d been there for the whole thing. He sighed. “Fine. But this’ll be easier with a visual. JARVIS?”

“Sir?” the AI responded promptly. He may have been so tied up that he didn’t initiate interaction, but JARVIS was still fully capable of replying to inquiries.

“Give me the locations on all the kids, if you please.” He did his best to ignore the startled expressions on the two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents’ faces. 

“The girl has returned to her previous position at the kitchen counter. One of the boys is currently hiding in your bedroom closet. The last—“

A small, shaggy haired but human shaped blur came tearing around the corner at top speed, and ran straight into Clint’s legs.

“-is approaching your position at high speed.”

“Thank you, JARVIS,” he said blandly.

“You’re welcome, sir. Should I lower the security measures on this floor?”

Tony considered it a minute. “Yes, for now, anyway. We should have enough people here to cover it. Just continue to monitor their positions and alert me if anything untoward happens.”

“Very well, sir.”

Clint, meanwhile, had bent down to steady the boy, who’d almost landed on his butt after face planting into the archer’s shins. “Whoa there, buddy, steady up. Little more care where you’re sprinting, eh?”

The boy looked up, startled, and stared at the two new arrivals with wide, golden eyes. He subjected them both to an intense stare, then fixated on Clint with a little, uncertain frown. Clint only seemed amused, and patted the kid’s shoulder with a smile and stood up. “This the visual you were talking about?”

“Well, a third of it,” Tony replied, wondering what had gotten into the wolf boy. He’d frozen in place and almost looked spooked. “If you’ll watch him, make sure he doesn’t run off or sprout a tail, I’ll get the other two thirds.”

It wasn’t difficult finding the kids since JARVIS had told him where they were. Not that Hela had even been hard to find, she’d remained more or less stationary all day at the counter with her tablet. He hadn’t even had to show her how to use it beyond the touchscreen and the drag and drop interface. However, convincing them to come with him to meet new people was another matter, as neither of them seemed particularly thrilled to do that. The boy took the most convincing, as Tony had to talk him into human shape first, though the girl was so shy that she took some time, too. Eventually he got them both trotted out to the living room, the girl peeking out from behind his legs, the boy actually holding his hand as they walked together. It was possible, Tony realized, that he was as shy as his sister.

Unconsciously following the example set by their father that morning, Tony lined them up in front of Pepper, Natasha and Clint.

“Okay, kids,” he said, feeling a little out of his element. “I would like you to meet some friends.” Starting with Pepper, he went down the line of adults. “This is Pepper Potts, we call her Pep, and she helps me with my company. This is Natasha Romanoff, and she gets scary when she’s mad, so be very polite to her. And this is Clint Barton, he’s good at hitting things with arrows.” They each pulled a face at him, so Tony considered it a successful introduction.

“Now, why don’t you tell them your names?” he suggested, thinking to himself that _he_ could use a second or fifth or thousandth listen to get their names right.

The little wolf boy stepped forward first, chest puffed out like a robin’s. “My name is Fenrir Lokason,” he said, then promptly bowed by bending at the hips.

Tony frowned. Had Loki mentioned last names?

The second boy stepped forward as his brother stepped back, though far less confidently. “My name is Jörmungandr Lokason.” He bowed as Fenrir had done. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Then at last was the girl, still half hidden behind hair and hoodie, and refusing to look up from the floor. “And I am Hela Angrbodudóttir.” She dropped a tiny curtsey to the adults. 

Tony blinked at the differing last name, but didn’t question it. There were probably a lot of things about Asgardian naming he didn’t know, so he wasn’t going to sweat it.

Each of the adults, after a brief pause to blink and exchange looks with each other, made polite noises. He didn’t know if the kids were aware of the underlying tensions now going on in the room, but Tony could feel it, clear as electricity playing across his skin. A definite ‘as soon as the little ones are out of hearing, you’re getting your ass reamed’ kind of vibe. Oh, the joy.

He suddenly wanted to stay very close to the children if it meant postponing that for as long as possible. 

Of course it didn’t quite work out that way, though not for lack of trying. Hela went back to ‘her’ kitchen counter and the tablet almost immediately, and after a minute or so of looking uncertainly between all of the adults in the room, Jörmungath… Jörmundar… screw it, _Jör_ had followed his sister and clambered up onto a stool beside her, where he could watch what she did on the tablet and occasionally reach over to touch the screen himself. And Fenrir, after having spent the last four and a half hours as a tiny, furry natural disaster, seemed to have latched on to Clint and was following him around, quiet as you like. 

Of course. Now that there were the entire contents of a children’s warehouse and several people to help him out, they were all perfectly well behaved. He suspected that was common behavior for groups of children. Lucky him. 

With two of them preoccupied in the kitchen, where they could be watched but where they were also far enough away that voices didn’t have to carry to them, and the other trailing after Barton like a faithful little shadow, it didn’t take long for Natasha to corner him. 

“Stark,” she began, and Tony winced. They’d made good progress to becoming friends recently, after all they had gone through with her being a S.H.I.E.L.D. plant to spy on him and then deeming him unfit to be a part of the Avengers Initiative – and that after he had saved a good number of people after barely scraping himself together. She called him ‘Stark’ if she was pissed or going into official mode. Neither option was particularly good at the moment. “Did I hear those boys right? Did they say _Lokason_? As in sons of _Loki_?”

Tony, who had been in the process of trying to sort out the boxes into some sort of order and out of traffic routes, and setting mice up in a nice corner of the living room, set down a container full of puzzles with a groan. He considered lying, but he doubted that it would do very much good. Nothing he could come up with on the spot sounded very convincing, even to him, and Natasha was infamous for sniffing out lies and ferreting out the truth. So rather than give her the impression that he thought he was doing something illicit, or challenge her to figuring out _why_ he would lie, the best option seemed to be to come out with the truth right away. And then appeal to her fondness for him, such as it was, to keep it under her hat. At least for now. 

This probably wasn’t going to end well. And he hadn’t even gotten properly dressed, yet.

“Your ears did not deceive you. They’re all Loki’s kids. He showed up this morning, kicked me out of bed and asked me to – well, _informed_ me that I would be watching them for the day. Until he comes back.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to call that in?” she demanded, her eyes going steely. Definitely in official mode, then. “Loki. The one who brought an intergalactic army to New York not too long ago, just shows up out of the blue and you what? Buy his kids teddy bears?”

“And you think that alerting S.H.I.E.L.D. is the best possible option, here?” Tony hissed back, lowering his voice to ensure none of the triplets could overhear him.

“Yes! Better than playing nursemaid.”

He shook his head. He didn’t think he would ever understand Natasha’s dedication to S.H.I.E.L.D. To his stubbornly autonomous personality it seemed to border on a hive mind mentality, unable to conceive of a worldview that did _not_ involve answering to some higher power. He’d be lying if he said that it didn’t grate on him from time to time. “He said he’s here because of the trial in Asgard,” he said as evenly as he could. “That he had ‘tasks of repentance’ or something. He hasn’t escaped, he’s not here to try for another takeover, so why get S.H.I.E.L.D. involved?”

Natasha stared at him as though he’d completely lost his mind. It was an expression he was familiar with, but it did make him replay what he’d just said in his mind. Why the hell was he defending _Loki_ , of all people? He may not be doing anything _now_ , but his track record was far from stellar, and there was nothing to stop him, as far as Tony knew, from starting something further down the line. 

“And you believed him?” the agent asked incredulously, bringing Tony back to earth. “Just like that, with no problems with trust or asking for proof?”

While Tony wasn’t sure _why_ he was defending Loki, though, didn’t mean he was going to stop. “Think about it. If he wanted to pick up where he left off, why alert us when he knows we can take him when push comes to shove? It would be a lot easier to just sneak in and do the damage before we knew he was here. Or hell, kill us in our sleep, he got through all the security easily enough. And why bring the kids into it at all? It doesn’t scan. And besides,” he added, trying to shake off the tension building in his shoulders. “I’m not certain he’s even interested in taking over Earth anymore. Too impractical, he got a taste of that last time.”

“It’s still not your choice, Tony,” Natasha insisted. “It’s standard procedure. An enemy like Loki shows up on the radar again, you call it in. Doesn’t matter what your personal opinion on his motivations are.”

“Alright,” he said slowly, forcing himself to relax. “Okay. You have a point. It’s flawed, but it’s there. And if this were _just_ Loki then I’d probably be all for making Fury’s day more stressful than it already is, but it’s not. We’ve got three children to consider, here. What do you think would happen to them if S.H.I.E.L.D. got wind of them?”

That gave Natasha pause, and Tony ran with it.

“Three children of Loki, right there out in the open? You think S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn’t leap on that opportunity? Even without considering what value they would have as hostages, they’re potential wellsprings of information, either as informants or as test subjects. I think the organization’s medical personnel would have a field day trying to figure out how they work.”

In truth, Tony hadn’t given any of this much thought before hitting Natasha with it, but even as he spoke, he knew it was all true. S.H.I.E.L.D. were the ‘good guys’ in the battle of good VS evil – a fight that became less cut and dry every day – but it was run by some very… _professional_ individuals, and they would do what they felt needed to be done. However young they were, the children would still be considered the enemy, prisoners of war, and handled as such. Probably even more so once their shape shifting abilities were discovered. 

Tony looked into the kitchen. The tablet was being held by small hands, lighting up one half of Hela’s pixie face. She pointed at the screen, explaining something to Jör, who studied what she pointed out with interest. When he reached out and touched the screen his face lit up with a smile, which was returned with – what else? – a half smile from Hela. They looked like ordinary kids right now, just hanging out and playing some kind of game on the tablet. No hint that one could become a snake or that they were both descended from Loki, would-be conqueror. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. would not see them that way, Tony knew that all too well. He’d seen how enemies treated each other’s children, and that was exactly what they would be to S.H.I.E.L.D. That’s what it really came down to, whatever morals they were meant to have. The children would be resources, chips to play and little else. If S.H.I.E.L.D. had a crisis of conscience about it later, that still wouldn’t help the kids.

Tony didn’t need to consider his options on that score. He wouldn’t watch kids being used to win a battle. Not even – especially – by his own side.

Natasha looked at him, and he almost screamed. He knew that expression as well. She’d gone blank, shuttered; she was choosing to block out what S.H.I.E.L.D. would do, ignoring those possibilities so she could focus on her job. “I have no choice, Stark.”

“Alright, wait,” Tony stalled, one final card occurring to him in a flash. “Before you call the mother ship, there’s one more person whose opinion you might want to consider, one that carries more weight than mine.”

“And whose is that?”

“Their uncle’s. You know, _Thor_.” He grinned at her stunned expression. Apparently that hadn’t occurred to her yet. “I doubt he would be best pleased by such a development. Does S.H.I.E.L.D. want _two_ Asgardian enemies, plus all their friends? Should we see what the big guy has to say about it?”

Before she could answer, Tony tilted his head slightly and called out, “Hey, JARVIS?”

The AI answered immediately. “Sir?”

“Is Thunderdrome at home?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he said, never taking his eyes off of Natasha. “Please inform him that I would appreciate his calling on me this morning. Sooner rather than later.”

“Of course, sir,” JARVIS replied, and Tony could swear he heard a note of satisfaction seep into his modulated mechanical voice.

It didn’t take very long before the elevator opened again and deposited not one, but all three remaining team mates on Tony’s carpet. Either JARVIS had shown surprising initiative and also roused Bruce and Steve when he had gotten Thor, or the three of them had been together when the AI broke in on the Asgardian and they’d all come up out of curiosity. They looked around themselves with no small part of confusion and interest at the stacks of boxes everywhere, walking through it all as though afraid to touch anything. Tony couldn’t really blame them, he probably would be too if the situation were reversed. 

When Thor spotted him across the living room he raised a hand with a grin. “Stark! Greetings of the morn-!”

He didn’t get any farther than that. From where Tony was standing he could see that all three of the youngsters had heard their uncle and their little heads had whipped around at his call. Jör and Hela were both hopping down from their stools and speeding over to him. But it was Fenrir’s high pitched holler of “UNCLE THOR!” that got the big blond to pause, then to break out into an even wider grin when he spotted the boy making a beeline from Barton to him. 

Bruce and Steve both stared, their eyes practically popping out of their heads completely at the sight of one and then three small children in Tony’s apartment. They backed up quickly when Fenrir made it to his uncle and Thor stooped down to lift the boy up, using the kid’s momentum to swing them both around in a circle, laughing heartily with Fenrir’s giggles. He tossed the squirming boy into the air like he was a ball – Tony’s stomach dropped slightly – and caught him again easily as the last two children made it to his legs and demanded attention.

Tony doubted he’d ever seen Thor look quite so surprised or happy before as he did when looking around at the three kids around him. His smile was so wide Tony thought it might actually take in his ears and split his whole head in half. He laughed loudly and was rewarded with two and a half grins in return. “Little ones,” he managed through his laughter, “what are you doing here? I had not expected to see you again for another fortnight!” He paused, looking between them and then up around, light blue eyes searching as his smile faltered slightly. “Where is your father?”

“Or more to the point at the moment, _who_ is their father?” Steve asked, eying the kids curiously. “Did that one just call you ‘uncle’?”

Bruce, who had been studying the children, looked up at Thor, who abruptly looked uncomfortable. “He did. And we only know of one brother of yours. Unless you’ve got more siblings you haven’t told us about…?”

Watching the big guy fidget, Tony felt a little guilty. He hadn’t meant to put him in an awkward position right off the bat, he’d just wanted to get Natasha to back off the ‘alert S.H.I.E.L.D.’ plan. He hadn’t thought through what his relation to them would mean in the sense of the team dynamic. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have expected it all to dump on him quite this quickly. 

“I have not, Banner,” Thor said quietly, stooping again to the other two kids. Fenrir had scrambled up like a monkey to perch on his right shoulder, and when he came low enough Jör did the same with his left. For his niece he interlocked his fingers, making a small platform for her. Hela turned and sat down in the makeshift seat delicately, and was lifted up so she hung at Thor’s waist when he stood again, while the boys towered above everyone on his shoulders. “These are the sons and daughter of Loki, my nephews and niece. They are Fenrir, Hela and Jörmungandr.” In turn, each of them nodded.

There was a long silence as this was absorbed, though for Tony the shock was finally wearing off, and he was just dreading the moment when an explanation would be demanded. It wouldn’t be long before it came, he knew. He started searching for his coffee cup.

Steve recovered his equilibrium first. Possibly it was the Army training that helped with that. “Okay. I don’t think any of us expected that, but okay. What are they doing _here_?”

Thor tilted his head at his nephews, puzzlement clear on his face. “I do not know. When last I saw them—“ he cut himself off abruptly. Tony noticed, and for some reason his first instinct was to look to the kids. Each of them had gone a shade paler, their mouths all stiff and drawn. Interesting.

“I did not look to hear from them for some weeks,” the big guy finished. “Nor from Loki for that matter. There was no reason I can recall that would bring them here.” He looked up, his blue eyes fixing on Tony across the room. Everyone took their cue from Thor, and soon all, including the triplets, were staring at him expectantly. “Stark, do you know why they are here?”

He sighed theatrically, giving up on the search for whatever was left of his coffee. It was lost amid the stacks and probably cold now, anyway. “I guess I know the most for why they’re here,” he admitted, and then proceeded to tell the series of events that led to this point again. His one comfort was that since everyone was present this time he wouldn’t have to do it a third time.

When he’d finished explaining, everyone turned back to the kids, who, Tony was a little surprised to see, didn’t shrink under all of the attention turned on them. He put it down to having someone big and familiar like Thor holding on to them giving them confidence.

“Well,” Bruce said, breaking the silence. “That’s, ah… That’s certainly something new, isn’t it? Hardly know where to begin, really, but… Let’s start with: How much can we trust Loki, here? He wasn’t exactly buddy-buddy the last time he swung into town.”

Thor’s face darkened somewhat, as it was apt to do whenever someone said a word against his brother, even when said sibling happened to be tearing apart the skyline. So long as no literal storm clouds were gathering, though, Tony thought they were probably safe. “Loki has stood before the Allfather and made his case. He has received his judgment and given his punishments, the measures of penance he must meet. I will not have you question him beyond that, my friend.”

The scientist held up his hands, giving up the matter. As his giant green alter ego he could stand his own against the Thunderer easily enough, but that was a measure Bruce would have to be desperate to reach for, and this did not rate. Bruce was always hesitant to get into verbal confrontations, anyway. It was sad, since Tony knew he could be as opinionated as they came, but he was more likely to give into another’s view – to appearances – rather than argue. It was a habit he’d picked up while learning to control the Hulk. He could probably manage fine these days, but he was still reluctant to try.

Steve cleared his throat, looked sideways at Tony, who tried not to bristle as an automatic response. “Alright then, how about we try for the ‘why,’ then? As in: Why did he pick Tony Stark to watch over his brood?”

“Exactly,” Tony muttered, staring at Thor.

The big blond shrugged, giving both of the boys a bit of a ride and setting them giggling. Hela rose and fell as well, but seemed too engrossed in the goings on to care. “I do not know Loki’s mind well enough to say why he would choose Stark for their… ‘Guardian,’ I believe would be the word. One would have to ask him, and he may choose not to say.”

“And he will be back,” Pepper broke in, startling everyone. They’d unconsciously gone into the Avengers team mode and forgotten she was there. “He has to come back at some point to pick them up, right?”

“I sure hope so,” Tony said ruefully. “He said he would, just wasn’t too clear on the ‘when’ part.”

“Which leads us rather neatly into our next question for debate,” Natasha put in smoothly, drawing everyone’s attention. “The question of whether or not we should alert S.H.I.E.L.D. that Loki is back in town. Town being Earth. _I_ don’t think it’s an issue. It’s a matter of protocol, but Stark has some other ideas.” She leveled a challenging look at Tony, which he returned was a sarcastic twist of a smile. So she was going to try and turn it into a team decision, then. Take advantage of everyone being in the same room and have them side with her much more rational view. Sneaky. 

Everyone seemed to give the question a little thought. Then Steve shrugged. “Seems reasonable. I mean he _did_ destroy a good portion of Manhattan, so we should probably let the bosses know he’s out on his own recognizance.”

“Agreed,” Bruce said after a moment. “No offence, Thor, but if Loki is back it’s best to have everyone aware of the fact and on the same page.”

“And it _is_ protocol,” Clint said quietly, standing to one side. 

Tony looked around at them all, scowling in exasperation. Were they all really this slow, or did they just not care? “Except for one small detail,” he said, looking back at Thor. “Or rather, _three_ small details.”

It took a second. Then, “ _Oh_ ,” came from Bruce.

Steve still looked confused. “What?”

Thankfully, Bruce seemed willing to explain it to the soldier, who had skipped the 60’s and the ingrained habit of ‘question the government’ they had provided. “If we tell S.H.I.E.L.D. Loki is back, we’ll have to explain _how_ we know, which will mean explaining _them_ ,” he nodded at the kids. “If S.H.I.E.L.D. decides to consider Loki hostile, or even potentially hostile, they’ll probably be taken as POWs. Given the level of threat he presents.”

Steve’s eyes widened. Tony would have felt sorry for him and his naiveté if it didn’t piss him off so much. “They wouldn’t do that. They’re just kids, for God’s sake!”

Bruce shook his head. “It might not matter, Loki is too high a risk to let something like this slip through their fingers. Especially when he just puts them in our hands like this,” he added tiredly. Unlike Steve, Bruce knew firsthand what official agencies were willing to do to get something they wanted, something they thought would give them an edge in wars they weren’t even necessarily fighting yet.

“I am sorry,” Thor interrupted. “But what is a POW?”

For a second no one answered the Asgardian, obviously trying to judge what his reaction would be to the idea of his niece and nephews being taken and put behind glass by S.H.I.E.L.D. Tony hesitated a moment as well, but to try and decide how much he wanted to say in front of the kids rather than their uncle. He wasn’t familiar with children, but what he was about to lay out he _knew_ would be enough to freak out a kid. Any human kid, that is. Looking at the three little Asgardians, Tony got the distinct impression that they already knew exactly what was going on, and they were keeping so quiet only to see what would happen next. Looking at the three of them, Tony felt they would know if he tried to hide anything from them, and would only be insulted. 

“A POW is a ‘prisoner of war,’ big guy,” Tony said with mock joviality. “If S.H.I.E.L.D. thinks your brother is still a sufficient enough threat, which won’t take very much, then they could very well take his children into custody. As a matter of protocol,” he added, totally deadpan.

Again Thor’s face clouded over, now with confusion. “To what purpose would this be done? They are strong for their age, it is true, but they are children and could do no serious harm. They are not warriors and so cannot be taken as prisoners _of_ war.”

Tony shrugged, looking over the kids to gauge their reactions. They were following the conversation, he could tell that much, but if they felt anything about it, it didn’t show. “No, but they present leverage to them, against your brother. And even if they don’t know anything, young as they are, you can bet S.H.I.E.L.D. will spend some time and effort making sure of that. And then there’s the possibility that they would take the opportunity to having three guinea pigs to take a _real_ close look and find out what makes an Asgardian tick.”

That got through to Thor, and he reacted even if the kids still refused to. His face went rigid and dark, his whole body tensed as he turned to glare at Natasha. He still had all three kids on him, but that didn’t stop the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent from looking nervous.

Steve took a step forward, his hands up to act as mediator. “Look,” he said in a reasonable tone. “I’m sure that’s just a worst case scenario, and even then I think that’s stretching a bit. S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn’t go so far as to experiment on a bunch of kids…”

“Wouldn’t they?” Bruce interjected, his tone bitter.

Tony winced, along with a few others of his team. Bruce’s history with General Ross was known to all of them, and what sort of fate had awaited him had he even been caught.

“That wasn’t S.H.I.E.L.D. that was hunting you down, Bruce,” Steve pointed out.

“And I wasn’t an actively hostile entity,” the scientist argued back. “As the Other Guy, sure, but at any other time I was just trying to get _away_. These kids,” he nodded to them, his voice softening a little, “won’t have that going from them.”

Tony could see a full blown argument revving up, one where the outcome wouldn’t give them a solution as to what they should do about S.H.I.E.L.D., Loki or the triplets, so he stepped forward, between everyone. “Look, this is why I called Thor up here. Seeing as he’s their uncle, I figure that besides Loki he had the most say in their welfare and anything we do that could jeopardize them.”

They all looked at Thor, but Thor was staring at Tony, a look of surprise on his face. “I… am grateful to you for calling me here, Stark, where it concerns my niece and nephews, and will of course add my voice and my arm to their protection. But it is not I who holds that position after Loki.”

He frowned. Was there another Asgardian in town he didn’t know about? “Then who does?”

“Why you, of course.”

_“… What?”_

Thor nodded. “Yes. I thought you understood, friend Stark. By entrusting you with his children, Loki has conferred the same rights and responsibilities over them that he himself has. Those outweigh anything that I, as their uncle, can claim.”

Tony was silent for a moment, and realized that now all attention was focused on him, including from the triplets.

“A bit heavy for a babysitting gig,” Bruce eventually commented.

Tony nodded. “Okay,” he said, refocusing on the Thunder God. “What, _exactly_ , do you mean when you say that, big guy? Cuz around here when someone drops their kids off for someone else to watch it’s in line with, say, a business agreement. The parent has someone watch the little ones, make sure they don’t choke on anything, show them a few patronizing but harmless cartoons, and gets them to bed before midnight. Then the parents take the kids back, pay the babysitter for their time and go home. There are responsibilities, sure, but I get the feeling you mean more than that.”

Thor looked openly befuddled now after Tony’s description of a babysitter. “Nay, that is not the nature of what this is at all. When one of Asgard entrusts their children to another it is a great honor, it is not something done lightly or for payment.” He looked down at his niece, who somehow sensed the attention and looked back up at him, her hair still blocking off half of her face. When Thor looked back up, Tony got the feeling he was really looking at an _uncle_ rather than a Thunder God, a Prince of Asgard, or a fellow Avenger. “We are a warrior people, Tony Stark,” he said earnestly. “As such we are never fully certain if when we leave our homes we will ever return. And the next generation,” he shifted, making the kids move with him, “is ever a top priority. So when a warrior goes into battle, if there is no one else, he will find one who can act as their guardian until he returns. If he returns. To be chosen for such a task is a high honor and responsibility, as it shows that the parent trusts you completely with their young, to protect them and to raise them into strong, intelligent warriors should they fail to return. By choosing you, Stark, Loki has said that he trusts you to raise his children as if they were your own. And by Asgardian law, until Loki returns to claim them, you are effectively their father.”

Tony stared straight at Thor, refusing to look into the intense little stares coming at him in gold, blue or green. He was aware of them and of the five other sets of eyes that were now boring into him from all sides, but he was very carefully ignoring them. He had to clear his throat twice before his voice would work properly, and then he felt the need to enunciate very clearly. “Are you saying that Loki has made me his baby-daddy?”

Thor’s brow wrinkled at the term, but he nodded.

It was Pepper who broke the silence this time. “Always knew it was going to happen eventually. Just never thought it would be a man.” She paused. “Or an alien.”

Coffee, Tony decided, was not going to cut it. He needed a real drink. He turned away and began walking for the kitchen, trying to decide which bottle would do the job most effectively.

“This doesn’t change anything!” Natasha was saying behind him, exasperated. “Regardless of Stark’s responsibilities, which don’t necessarily hold water while we’re on Earth, _we_ still have our first duty to S.H.I.E.L.D., which is to inform them of potential threats. I’m sorry, Thor, but your brother, whatever happened in Asgard, counts as a potential threat.”

“You would really do that?” That was Pepper. “Even if it risks these kids, you would still call it in?”

“Yes, it’s my job.”

Where the hell was the booze, had Pep hidden it again?

“Really? It doesn’t bother you what might happen to three children?” That was Bruce, still backing Tony’s side. He smiled as he opened another cupboard. He knew he liked the geeky little guy from the first. Now… where was the whiskey?

To her credit, Natasha did sound legitimately torn when she replied. The problem was that while she was torn, she was still sticking to her guns. “We can make our case to S.H.I.E.L.D., see to it they know that the kids are harmless and will tell them nothing.”

“Yeah,” Bruce scoffed. “I’m sure that’ll go over really well.”

And to think, last night he’d planned for today to be a ‘catch up of junk TV’ day.

“Friend Stark,” Thor called, bringing his attention up out of his rebelliously alcohol-free cabinets and back into the living room. “Where do you stand?”

Tony looked back out into the living room that was quickly becoming a small battlefield. With the many stacks of boxes arranged around, the ripped, torn and scattered cushions and papers, and of course the set of soldiers standing around, subtlety positioning themselves in ready positions, it certainly had everything required to make a battlefield. He let his eyes rove from one person to the next. They were all staring at him again, and he tried to judge what they were thinking. 

Pepper was standing just outside the invisible boundary that had developed, marking a section of the room as the ‘war zone,’ her teeth digging into her bottom lip. This was above her pay grade, as high as that was, and it was unfair to thrust on her. In the end she would have no say on the matter, anyway. As close as she was to him and the company, the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. were something else again. 

Clint was hard to read. He’d remained all but silent during all of this, and his face was completely neutral. Tony knew he had no particular love of Loki – he thought a more accurate term would be loathed with every fiber of his being – but whether or not that sentiment extended to his children as well Tony couldn’t tell. He couldn’t even tell, in either expression or body language, whether he leaned more one way or another. But that’s how ‘the Hawk’ usually was: standoffish until it came time to act. 

Steve was also conspicuously silent, but much easier to read. One only had to look at his face to see that he was upset by the whole idea. He was a soldier, but one of the noble variety. He’d gone to war because he’d believed he could make a difference, not just to beat down the bad guys or through a vendetta. He wasn’t the type to coldly hand over children to get the job done… But at the same time he _was_ the type to follow orders. He was a _good_ soldier, after all.

Natasha was no challenge, even if she hadn’t made her position perfectly clear. She was determined to do what she saw as her duty, whatever her personal feelings on the matter. Tony could admire that level of commitment, even as he despised the direction it took her.

Bruce, bless him, was as easy to read as Natasha, and in completely the opposite direction. Unlike the rest of them, he wasn’t a soldier or a warrior. He hadn’t even really ever officially agreed to join S.H.I.E.L.D. until recently. He was a scientist through and through, had never been trained as the majority of them had, and that included a certain way of thinking. He was not in for anything that would endanger the triplets. Where he stood on Loki himself was another matter, but Tony felt like he could count on him for the kids. 

And Thor… there was no question about Thor, whether thinking of the kids _or_ Loki. He would defend them all equally and to the best of his abilities. And considering what some of his abilities included, that was worth some serious respect. 

Then, almost against his will, Tony’s eyes came to rest on each of the kids in turn. They were all calm and quiet, the boys perched on Thor’s shoulders and Hela seated on the little swing seat of his hands, her fingers wrapped around his thick forearms. They had been remarkably calm throughout the entire exchange that centered around what was to be done with them, though he was still certain that they were well aware of the significance of what was being discussed. He was impressed how composed they were… until he got a good look in their eyes.

They knew what was being discussed, all right, and knew, at least to a certain extent, what could happen if things went pear shaped for them. And they were quiet, but they weren’t necessarily calm. They were frozen. Tony could see it in the way they fixated on him, pupils dilated, like rabbits watching an oncoming predator. Except he wasn’t the predator, he realized. They weren’t frightened of _him_ , though they watched him very closely. They were waiting to see what he would do, if he would help them or leave them to the mercy of his teammates. 

Something clicked over inside of Tony. He recognized the feeling. It was similar to the time years ago, when he was still making the transition to ‘Iron Man’ and watching live footage from Gulmira. He had decided, all at once, decided to take back his legacy, whatever it took. 

He’d never thought of having his own kids because he was 99% sure he would screw it up royally. He didn’t want the responsibility, the pressure, and the guilt afterwards if and when – and _when_ – he fucked up. When Thor said he basically _was_ a father to these children, even temporarily, his whole mind rebelled. Screw the honor Loki was supposedly bestowing on him and the Asgardian laws that conferred the ‘honor’ in a more official capacity. He, Tony Stark, had had no say in the matter, so it was _not_ his problem. 

But the kids trusted him. _They_ knew he was meant to protect them. It was Tony that they looked to for shelter from whatever fate was being discussed for them, not their uncle. 

And it would be their faces that haunted him if he let anything happen to them. 

Ignoring all of his team still watching him, Tony walked up to Thor until he stood directly in front of the burly Asgardian. He looked at both of the boys in turn, first Fenrir and then Jör, and let a little smile tug at his mouth, a cocky half grin that promised games later. Both boys grinned back, eyes brightening. Even Thor’s look lightened. He looked down at Hela, who had her head tilted all the way back to see him, green eye questioning. When Tony offered his hands to her she hesitated before taking them, her tiny hands disappearing in his. The left hand, he noticed, was gloved. He wondered how he’d missed that before. He lifted the girl up, surprised how light she was, until he could settle her weight on one of his hips as he’d seen ‘other’ parents do. It felt surprisingly natural. Hela continued to stare at him.

He smiled at her. “No worries, little princess,” he said quietly, just for her. “You’re safe with iron-daddy.”

He felt the tensions behind him change, and when Tony looked up he saw that Thor had broken into a wide, toothy grin, echoed on his nephews. Hela rested her head on his arm.

“Are you seriously accepting this, Stark?” Natasha demanded. “You’re going to take on this- this _whatever_ Loki has put on you and pit yourself against S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Tony turned around to face her, supporting Hela with one arm and stroking one of her shoulders with the other hand. He could already feel his protectiveness skyrocketing as he felt her body heat sink into his side, listening to her tiny breaths. Oh yeah, he was gone. “I think,” he said, quiet and concise, “that I will be protecting these kids _regardless_ of any kind of onus put on my by Loki or _anyone else_. I think that if anyone threatens them in any way, they’ll be finding a very nasty surprise waiting for them. Anyone _including_ S.H.I.E.L.D. So if Fury or anyone else tries to take these kids out of here, they’re going to find themselves facing down a pissed off Iron Man, and the not inconsiderable resources of Stark Industries. I am perfectly serious,” he added when Natasha tried to smile the promise away. “So before you make that call I would seriously ask if you were prepared to pit _S.H.I.E.L.D._ against _me_.”

“And I,” Thor added, grin never once faltering.

“Me, too,” Bruce added, nodding at Tony.

After a moment’s hesitation, Steve spoke up too. “And me.” He shrugged at Natasha apologetically when her head whipped in his direction. “Sorry, but children have no place in war. I won’t stand by if there’s even a chance of it happening.”

Tony was impressed. He wasn’t sure where the soldier boy was going to fall in this little skirmish. He looked over his shoulder at Pepper, who gave him a single firm nod. He knew he could depend on Pep to back his play, but it was still good to see.

Natasha’s eyes flicked over the forces that were suddenly arranged against her, then in a move that mirrored Tony’s, she looked over her shoulder at Clint, seeking support. 

Unlike Pepper, however, Clint shrugged in response. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t like those odds if S.H.I.E.L.D. goes that way.”

Natasha’s shoulders sagged, she nodded. Tony didn’t necessarily trust the show of defeat, and remained tense until she turned back to them. She was smiling. “Actually I’m kinda relieved,” she said, and sounded it. “This much firepower, no one can blame me if I don’t say anything to Fury, right? At least until the kids are out of harm’s way?”

Tony’s smile felt a little strained when he returned it. “Thanks. If you wouldn’t mind, I would appreciate it if you stayed in the building until that happened.”

The agent didn’t seem offended, and agreed to the condition. Still, as soon as Tony was sure neither she nor Barton could overhear him he ordered JARVIS to deaden any and all outgoing signals from the Tower, effectively cutting off any communications they might have via mechanical means. Paranoia might not be entirely healthy, but it was better than the cleanup later if it was actually called for.

Despite the awkwardness of Natasha and her split loyalties, once the initial tensions were broken everyone seemed to get along great. Thor and the boys roughhoused for a while, giving Tony, Pepper and Bruce some time to sort out the boxes and find places for them. While still riled up, all three of the kids ‘discovered’ Bruce and simultaneously decided that he was a good person to play dog pile with. Tony freaked out a little at first, unsure how Banner would respond – if the Hulk was a possibility – but after the initial surprise Bruce was laughing and playing right along with them. It was kind of adorable, actually. Tony had never seen Bruce look so at ease, and the kids were delighted with their new playmate.

As they calmed down, Fenrir – or Fen, as Tony began thinking of him – took to following Clint around again. Hela sat down with her tablet and was eventually joined by Natasha, who spoke quietly with her. Tony debated whether or not to break them up, then realized that he was hovering. He decided to walk by quietly to check on them later. Or even better, to have JARVIS eavesdrop through the tablet. He wasn’t being a worrywart, he reminded himself staunchly. He was being cautious. And Jör was pretending to play with some of the toys that had been brought in, while really staring at Pepper. Tony smiled. The boy had good taste, at least. 

Steve, after several attempts to engage each of the kids, all of which had failed, had taken to manning the coffee machines. Tony was pretty sure it was a cover, hiding that he was sulking after being snubbed by three seven year olds. 

So it was a while before Tony could properly corner Thor for questioning, but as soon as the opportunity presented itself he grabbed it.

When he finally had the big blond Asgardian to himself, each of the kids distracted with other activities or people, Tony hesitated. There was a lot, a _lot_ that needed to be explained about all of this, and he wasn’t sure where he should start. He wasn’t even sure he could properly articulate everything he wanted to know, much less put it all into any sort of logical order and present it. Thor, lovable lug that he was, seemed to understand his internal struggle and waited patiently for Tony to gather his thoughts. 

When he finally settled on a question it was more out of the order of events that led up to the current situation than out of his sense of priorities. “Thor, what happened at that trial in Asgard, with the Allfather? What is going on?”

It was Thor’s turn to hesitate, gaze sliding away from Tony. He had almost been expecting that kind of reaction from the big man. Thor had been reluctant about speaking of his brother with anyone since joining the Avengers, for which none of them could fault him, but in general he had been open enough about the rest of his life in Asgard. It made for interesting listening – especially for S.H.I.E.L.D. eggheads – and they all took it in turns to solicit him for tales he never seemed to run out of. Except that for a time, he abruptly became recalcitrant, subdued, even withdrawn, most especially where it touched on anything to do with his personal history or his family, not just Loki. While the name ‘Loki,’ where it had made him grow quiet before, for that period of time it made him grow stiff and pale, and without saying a word he would simply walk away.

This had lasted the better part of a month, and thinking back on it now, Tony considered it very likely that this time frame coincided with Loki’s trial. Though Thor had never mentioned Loki’s _having_ a trial to anyone, let alone what his judgment had been.

“Look,” Tony said, running a hand through his hair. How long had he been awake? It felt like days. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but your brother just designated me Dad Number Two, here, with absolutely no warning. And no explanation, either, for that matter, and that’s just rude. While he was here – briefly – he mentioned the trial, like it pertained to,” he waved at his wrecked apartment, “ _this_. So it’s become my business now, whether you like it or not. So start talking.”

For a moment he thought Thor would refuse to talk to him, that he would walk away as he used to whenever someone tried to broach the subject of his brother. But eventually he seemed to reach a decision, and sighed. “It was a… difficult thing, Stark,” he said quietly, not looking directly at him. “The trial. There were many things said, many old wounds torn afresh during the proceedings. By the time the end was at last reached, none were…” he trailed away, his gaze going distant as he recalled the scenes in Asgard. When he came back to himself he shook his head, clearing his throat. He finally looked at Tony directly, his expression pained. “Loki’s verdict was reached, and his punishments were laid before him. Some he could pay immediately, and did. Some will take time. One of those is that he carries out certain acts of repentance here, in Midgard. That must be where he is now.”

Tony nodded thoughtfully. It fit well enough with what little Loki had said that morning before disappearing, though he was curious what it was, exactly, that the Trickster was up to and where. And when he could be expected to return. “Alright, that makes sense, as far as it goes. But what about the kids? How do they fit in to all of this, besides just being Loki’s?”

Thor still looked uncomfortable when he shook his head. “Understand, Stark, that I have no desire to keep you in ignorance, but neither is it my place to divulge details of what took place. Or to tell the full breadth of the children’s story.”

Tony’s forehead wrinkled. “But you’re their uncle…?”

He was surprised at how dark and hurt Thor’s face became. “Yes,” he growled out. “And a poor one I proved to be.”

Mentally, Tony took a quick step back. Obviously there were some deep issues here, which he would do well to tiptoe around. He already knew a few of them, such as Loki being adopted into the royal family of Asgard from an enemy royal family of Jötunheimr, and none being the wiser until both Loki and Thor were well into adulthood. That alone was a big enough landmine to avoid, but he’d always gotten the impression there were dozens more directly linked to that one, and then dozens more from each one of those, branching out and spreading like a spider’s web. Now, with the addition of Loki’s children those hidden landmines had increased exponentially. He would have to tread very lightly.

Tread lightly, but still learn something of what he wanted to know if he could. “Okay… What _can_ you tell me?”

Thor took a breath, perhaps taking a step back himself. He considered the question carefully before he answered. “… During the trial, long after those who were not directly connected to the Royal Family had either taken their leave or had been dismissed, Loki dared to make a demand of the Allfather. He demanded his children. He wished them away from Asgard and by his side.”

“Who had them before that, their mother?”

All color drained from Thor’s face, and Tony kicked himself. So much for treading _lightly_.

“No,” he said tightly. “They were not. And I suggest in future that you do not mention her again. Either to the children for their sake, or to Loki for your own.”

Right, so another great big landmine right there, then. “Noted. So… He’s got custody of his kids again, or, you know, whatever the Asgardian equivalent is, he’s got work to do here and has to drop the little rascals off somewhere while he’s at work. Got it. It’s a little bizarre, but I get it. Now the question is why the hell did he pick _me_? The last time I saw him he threw me out of a window. _That_ window,” he pointed to the large bay that led to his balcony and overlooked the still damaged skyline of New York. “Why would he have me watch them and not you?”

Thor winced. He turned away from Tony again, but this time instead of staring off into the middle distance, his eyes fixed on Fen and Jör, who had decided to have a wrestling match on the floor. They were shifting freely between human, cub and serpent forms, much to the surprise of the adult onlookers, many of whom had yet to witness this particular ability. “While I am not certain why he chose you, Stark,” he said lowly, “what it was he saw in you that made you worthy in his estimation… I do know why it was not me. As much as it pains me, I understand why I was not entrusted with such a task.”

Tony didn’t reply, but something must have shown in his expression, as when Thor looked back to him and saw it he hastened to explain.

“I love my brother’s children, Stark. I could not love my niece and nephews more even were they my own daughter and sons, and well Loki knows it. But I understand why it was not I he turned to for the caring of them. Nor can I condemn him for the decision.”

Tony sighed, deciding to let that line of questioning lie for now. It was obviously not going to be something that could be worked through _now_ , possibly not even with several hours to spare. “Great. Terrific. I’m honored and all with Loki’s choice, but…”

Tony trailed away, and looked back at the two wrestling boys / animals, then at Hela, who was playing with the tablet, occasionally responding to something Natasha said to her. What the hell was he doing, anyway? Sure he was watching Loki’s kids, but _why_? Why was he helping Loki in _any_ way, what reason could he possibly have to do so? As far as the kids were concerned, just as themselves, he would care for and protect them just like he said he would, but _Loki_? And why the hell would Loki choose him, _trust_ him, with children he went to bat with the Allfather for? What reason could Loki possibly have to trust him at all, when it would have been a pretty fair assumption that Tony would just cart them off to the nearest S.H.I.E.L.D. outpost as soon as he went *bamf* out of his Tower?

And beyond trusting him to _not_ toss his offspring into a cell as soon as he was able, what made him think he was capable of- what was it? ‘Protect them and raise them into strong, intelligent warriors’? He might be able to see where Loki would get that, just on its face, but there was more to rearing kids than combat training and schoolwork. Tony knew that firsthand, from his own childhood. What the hell was Loki thinking? What were _either_ of them thinking?

To himself, voice full of bitter sarcasm, Tony muttered, “Your brother sure knows how to pick guardians for his kids.”

Either Thor misunderstood the tone or he simply decided to ignore it, because he responded with a, “Yes, he does.”

Tony whipped back around, expecting to see some kind of mocking grin, or just a knowing glint in the Asgardian’s eye. Instead he was staring at Tony with something that bordered on the terrifying. Sincerity.

Suddenly wondering at his large friend’s sanity, Tony waved at his living room, or where his living room had once been and where there was now a small domestic combat zone. “Did you get your giant head knocked around by a troll recently, Conan? Have you seen what’s been going on in here?”

“Yes, I have.” He paused, glancing over at his niece and nephews. “Stark, _look_ at them. You do not know, cannot know what they are like except for as you see them now, but I do. I know what hardships they have suffered, though I could do little to prevent it. I saw how they were… regarded in Asgard. How they were treated by their keepers, and how it affected them. Sometimes days would pass, and not one of them say a single word, even to each other, nor eat more than a heel of bread, nor stir more than a few feet from their beds, though they were provided with all they could need. Here, there is light in their eyes, they run and play. They laugh.”

For a minute Tony tried to process what Thor said, what it implied. He tried to imagine all three of the children, wild and rambunctious and tearing his apartment to pieces – Jör was at the moment climbing on Bruce, who seemed to be enjoying the attention, while Fen was pulling figure eights around Clint’s feet in cub form – going for days without speaking. Or refusing to eat even with plates of food in front of them. Or not laughing. Even Hela, quiet as she was, was smiling into her tablet. He also couldn’t help but note that Thor hadn’t referred to their ‘guardians’ in Asgard, but their ‘keepers.’ It was a subtle difference, but Tony was certain it was a key one.

He’d been wrong. It wasn’t a minefield he was tip-toing through. He was walking out on a thin sheet of ice over an ocean, whose fathoms he could only guess at, much less see. If he tried he could make out shapes, movement, but every once in a while the ice would creak, threatening to drop him in. 

What little he saw in those depths, he didn’t like. “What happened to these kids, Thor?” he demanded quietly, surprised at the level of rage that swept through him.

Thor shook his head, and Tony thought he might punch him. For all the good it would do. “Again, it is not my place to say. It is my brother’s province to choose when and _if_ to tell you.”

Tony blew out a breath, trying to calm down. He watched the kids. The boys were still roughhousing; Jör had gone scaly, apparently in attempt to get the better of Bruce, but didn’t have the length to wrap around more than an arm or leg. Bruce did not look at all worried. Fen, meanwhile, was mostly hairless again, and had a found a toy bow and arrow set, which Clint was pointing out portions on. 

“And he _does_ love them, doesn’t he?”

He didn’t realize at first that it was himself who had spoken until Thor replied, his tone fervent. “With a ferocity even a mother would be hard pressed to match, Tony Stark.”

“And he handed them over to me to watch. To act as ‘second father’ to them.” He leveled a stare on the blond. “ _Why me_ , Thor?”

He sighed, and considered the question. After more than a minute of silence, he shrugged his big shoulders. “I do not know, my friend. Loki’s mind has ever been a difficult one to understand. I thought once that I did, but I realize how sorely mistaken I was, now. Perhaps it is as he said, and you are the best choice in a limited field.” He paused, thoughtful, then shook his head. “But I do not think that. I believe he saw something in you that truly earned his trust.” The stare he leveled on Tony made the shorter man feel even smaller, undeserving. “Something that made you the only possible choice.”

For a moment the two of them stood, eyes locked. It felt as though Thor were trying to sear the importance of the moment into Tony’s brain. He didn’t think he would ever forget it, even if he also never fully grasped it.

The spell was broken by something tugging on his shirt. He looked down to see half a face and an intense green eye looking up at him. Hela’s voice, slightly lisped, floated up to him:

“Hungry.”

Tony panicked, and jerked his head around to check the time. It was edging into noon already. “You sure I’m still such a hot choice, there, big guy?” He motioned to the clock on the wall. “They’ve been here six hours and I haven’t fed them yet! What do Asgardian kids eat?”

Rather than looking shocked at Tony’s oversight, or even particularly upset, Thor grinned at him. Tony got the impression he was being laughed _at_ , but decided that he didn’t care. “Children of Asgard need much to help them grow, they will eat almost anything. Though personal tastes should be considered.”

Right. And he didn’t want to try cooking – he was dismal in the kitchen – which left ordering in grub. That limited the options, though not by much. There were an awful lot of places that offered delivery. But if he thought about it, not many of them would appeal to kids, at least not Earth kids. He would assume that the triplets’ tastes were at least somewhat similar. 

“What about allergies, then?”

Thor frowned, looking at Hela. “None that I am aware of, but I have never been responsible for their meals.” He tilted his head at Tony. “Did Loki leave _no_ direction for them before he left?”

“No he—“ Tony cut himself off. He suddenly remembered the note, the little slip of curled parchment Loki had left on the coffee table for him.

Extricating himself gently from Hela’s grip on his shirt, Tony practically sprinted for where the coffee table was; or had been the last time he’d seen it, before a labyrinth had sprung up in his living room. How could he have forgotten the note Loki had left for him? If there was going to be anything offering him any sort of salvation in all of this, then that would probably be it. It wasn’t a cell number to get ahold of the slippery God directly, but it was something, some dribble of advice from the man most qualified to give it. 

The coffee table hadn’t moved since its burial behind a wall of boxes, and miraculously enough the paper was still there was well. He uncurled it carefully, vaguely afraid of tearing the parchment in his eagerness and being even more lost than before. It was thick paper, though, and covered in a bold, slightly curling hand. Tony had the idea that Loki’s handwriting would either be incredibly ornate or a barely legible scrawl, but this was somewhere between; a neat, angular style with the occasional flourish. The only problem was that there wasn’t nearly enough of it on the paper for Tony’s tastes. Still, it was something, and he would take what he could get.

Loki was succinct in his note. None of the children had any known allergies or conditions that would require medication. They all possessed a measure of magical ability, but were all schooled to _not_ use it without supervision, to wit: Loki himself. He recommended that they remain indoors to avoid awkwardness with civilians – which Tony had been bright enough to figure out on his own, thank you very much. There were notes on bedtimes and a slightly confusing aside that Tony remain with them when the sun went down. Then, finally, Loki decided to mention the fact that Jörmungandr could transform into a five foot long serpent and Fenrir into a wolf cub. At least Tony had been right about his wolf guess. He didn’t think that there would be any note pertaining to Hela, as she’d shown no sign of changing her shape, and he was almost right. There was nothing about Hela taking the form of an animal, but there was one on her specifically. Tony read it twice, looking around the pillars of supplies at Hela a few times as he did so.

Well. That would explain why she constantly hid half her face, then, and the glove he hadn’t noticed right away. In fact, it might go quite some way to explaining why she was so shy, period. He tried to imagine what it must have been like for the girl to grow up even as much as she had with half of her body, if Loki’s note was true, dead. From head to toe, evenly divided straight down the middle, the girl was half alive, and the other half was effectively dead. Not rotted or diseased – Tony hoped he would have noticed that much, at least – but what Loki referred to as being ‘long dead and unresponsive.’ Tony assumed that meant something like mummified. He could, in theory, check and see for himself… but he was in no hurry to do that. He wasn’t particularly squeamish, though seeing a little girl half mummified as she was blinking at him would probably get to him, but he was more concerned with how Hela would react to a request to see the half she hid. It obviously bothered her, and it didn’t take a genius to understand that a good portion of that had to have come from her appearance and how the people around her reacted to it.

Combined with what Thor had kinda, sorta told him about how they had all been treated by their ‘keepers’… no, he wasn’t going to check on her face. In fact, if anyone else suggested she brush back her hair he would have to make sure he interjected himself on her behalf. 

Back on the issue of food. The note said they had no allergies, but it didn’t give him any hint on the kind of thing they liked, either. He thought of the kinds of things Thor always seemed to have a taste for. If they ate like their uncle, then they would go for meals big on meat courses, heavy bread and have a major sweet tooth. He would draw the line at mead. They were minors, after all.

“Hey kids! Any of you ever try a little Midgardian delicacy called ‘pizza’?”

In the end, because there were ten mouths to feed and because no one was sure what the children – or Thor – would like, Tony put in for the largest order of pizza seen outside of frat houses and football teams. Every single kind of pizza that was available on the menu – twenty-one – ordered extra-large and with drinks for everyone.

“Except the young ‘ins,” Tony clarified. “No sugary soda for them. There should be some milk and juice in the fridge.”

When the two delivery guys came up carrying twenty-one pizzas, Tony tipped them the same price as the order to split between them and recruited the team to set up and dish out. They’d shared enough group meals to have this routine pretty much down pat, and the addition of four more plates for the kids and Pepper was only a logistical problem for space. It wasn’t a big issue, and soon plates and pizzas were laid out for everyone, the line of options covering the center of the table and spilling over onto the kitchen counters.

It smelled like a full on pizzeria in the Tower with twenty-one extra-large pizzas gently steaming away. Tony hadn’t realized just how much food twenty-one of them would be – there would be some free lunches going on in some of the lower floors – or how hungry he was. He’d panicked when he realized he hadn’t fed the kids yet, but he hadn’t had any breakfast, either. The smell of hot pizzas was enough to set him drooling like one of Pavlov’s dogs. And he wasn’t the only one who was effected that way, he didn’t even need to call the few teammates who hadn’t helped set up to the table. 

The triplets weren’t far behind, and they were very excited at the prospect of food.

Hela was already at the table, lightly bouncing in her seat and staring at the arranged pizzas with a hungry eye. Tony was rather impressed that she kept her hands to herself. Then there was a sound, as of a tiny stampede making its way from the living room to the table. Everyone froze in place, it abruptly becoming dangerous to move their feet with a boy and a cub pulling laps around their legs.

Thor laughed at the antics of his nephews. “It seems they appreciate the aroma, friend Stark! If they enjoy the flavor as much then the feast will be a rousing success!”

Tony chuckled, faintly. Go figure, pizza would be a good failsafe food for Asgardians, too. He flinched when one of the boys careened into his shins, bounced off and kept going. He’d been right, he thought, to designate the kids as milk and juice only; no sodas for the already hyperactive youngsters. They’d end up climbing the walls, possibly literally, if they were fed sugar or caffeine. Ducking under the table, he made a grab for the first small, running body he could see. “Hey, c’mon! The food’s up here, ya little terrors!”

He wasn’t quite fast enough to actually catch anything, just quick enough to feel fur whip past his fingers and clamp down on nothing but air. A second attempt had basically the same result, but on a tee shirt rather than fur. He could hear, above the table, some of the others calling down to the boys, trying to get them to settle down and take their seats. He even saw a few hands make vague, passing swipes at the running kids, though no one was ducking down with him beneath the table.

Then suddenly both of the boys were gone, Tony was alone amid a forest of legs and there were shouts coming from above him.

Tony surfaced, after cracking his head on the edge of the table, and had enough time to take a quick sweep of the scene, spotting Fen, still a cub, standing in a chair and forepaws on the table, surveying the food with gleaming eyes and drooling chops, and Jör just as he was transforming from boy to serpent. One moment he was standing in his chair, reaching across the table for one of the closer pizzas, then Tony’s eyes did that weird flicker thing, and then there was a snake slithering across the table, heading straight for the same pizza. There was an increase of volume around the table as everyone at once began telling Jör to get off of the table, become human, get back in your seat, don’t you _dare_ curl up on that pizza-!

It was oddly fascinating to watch a five foot serpent, after it had flicked its tongue out at the cheese and tomato sauce mixture curiously, quickly move _onto_ the pizza, working itself into a tightly coiled spiral until the whole pie was covered by his scaly body. No one was reaching out to try and hinder his progress physically, he noticed, though everyone seemed to be contributing to the noise level freely enough. For all the good it was doing. Fen, he noticed, had taken to lapping at the milk in his glass, while Hela had simply gone still as she watched the chaos from her chair.

Standing beside his chair, Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, doing his best to recall the tone of his voice his father had once used on him without focusing on the exact words, he snapped his eyes open again.

“Alright!” he shouted over the tumult. “Bipedal at the table or _no_ dessert for anyone!”

For a moment everyone froze, staring at Tony, the sudden silence ringing around them like a resounding gong. Very quietly, Fen popped back into human form and Jör, after rather shamefacedly – for a snake – slithered back to his chair, did the same. His clothes were stained red with pizza sauce all down the front. 

“Wow,” Pep said eventually. “They actually listen to you.”

Clint, picking up the pizza Jör had used as a cushion, pulled a face as he examined it. “I hope nobody was really looking forward to the Hawaiian. It’s kinda… squashed.”

Bruce’s face fell. “Aw, man…”

Tony sighed, and went to Jör’s side, inspecting his clothes. He would have to be cleaned up. He looked over at Fen, who was watching him a little warily. “Let’s see the hands, buddy,” he called. 

The boy held up his hands, and Tony winced. Running around on all fours meant grubby paws. When he looked Hela’s direction he didn’t even have to ask, she just held up both hands, palms up, for him to see. One was still in a glove, which was spotless, and the other might as well have just been scrubbed, it was so pale and clean. He nodded approval at her and she dropped her hands, going back to watching the food hungrily but quietly.

“Pep,” he called. “Would you mind dredging up one of those outfits for me, one you think will fit long body, here?” He took Jör’s hand – which also had sauce on it – and got him to stand. “We’re going to head to the bathroom and get washed up before we eat.” With one boy in tow they stopped and picked up the other on their way past. “You too, pup. C’mon.”

Small, grubby hands in either one of his and Pepper already seeking out a change of clothes, Tony strode to the washroom, calling over his shoulder for everyone to get started without them. As they turned the corner he was almost certain he heard someone – Steve, he thought – quip: “That was one of the _weirdest_ things I’ve ever seen.”

While washing the two boys up, just hands for Fen and hands, face and a change of shirt and pants for Jör when Pep handed them in, Tony was pleasantly surprised by how cooperative they were. He’d expected, based on their previous behavior that morning, to be fighting them the whole time. But no, they were unexpectedly quiescent. Silent, even. While wiping Jör’s face clean he noticed that the boy wouldn’t look him in the eye, and he felt a stab of guilt. Had he frightened them when he’d yelled? 

Way to go, Stark.

“Look,” he said quietly, wiping at Jör’s chin with a washcloth. “I’m sorry I raised my voice out there. It wasn’t very nice of me. But there’s a time for play and a time to settle down, okay? Just like there’s a time to be snakes or wolves and a time to be human.” He was feeling his way along this particular parental-like conversation, but he was pretty sure that last bit was unique. He tried not to think about what other such stock talks he might have to alter to fit these kids in the future, and focused on the current one. “Now I don’t know how meals work when you have them with your father, but when you’re here it’s considered polite to be the same shape as everyone around you. At least while we’re eating. You see these?” He put down the washcloth and held up both hands, waggling his thumbs in circles, making sure both of the boys looked before resuming on Jör’s face. “We like to use them at table. Usually for knives and forks and spoons – and cups,” he added, remembering Fen lapping up his milk. “Or for what we call ‘finger food,’ food you eat with your hands. What we got out there is called pizza, and it is one of the best finger foods around, but I would like for you to have fingers to eat it with. Okay?”

Tony craned until he caught Jör’s icy blue eye and got a tiny nod out of him, and then one from Fen. They finished getting cleaned up, Jör now in a clean pair of cargos and a Hercules tee shirt, and walked back out to the table. They were both much more diffident than they had been, Jör even electing to take hold of Tony’s hand again while Fen settled for just walking beside him.

The meal was relatively quiet from that moment on. The kids were more or less silent as they ate and the adults talked shop. But if things started out awkward, it melted away quickly enough. Tony was distracted by keeping an eye on the triplets as he ate, but the rest of them got into an easy rhythm of banter, debate and laughter. Picking up on the relaxed air, the kids slowly unwound as well. They didn’t join in on the conversation – Tony would have been surprised if they had – but they got into their own rhythm of eating, scanning the pizzas for what looked the best to them, then tugging on someone’s arm and pointing out their chosen plate. Watching them work their way through plate after plate of pizza slices, Tony was amazed they hadn’t said anything earlier, if they were all this hungry. Then he was amazed none of them had burst, they were putting so much away.

Large appetites were definitely a family trait, then.

Still, even with four humongous appetites and six regular ones they couldn’t quite polish off twenty-one extra-larges. There were plenty of leftovers to find homes for and ten places to clean up at table. No one had been particularly messy – Tony checked Thor’s place to be sure of that – but it was still widely spread. But there was one more point of business to attend to before cleanup could start.

“So what did you have in mind for dessert, Tony?”

“Uh…”

The feeling of panic was becoming so familiar to him, just over the course of a single day, that Tony wondered how much longer it would take for him to become completely acclimated to it. He didn’t think too much longer, but by the same token he certainly wasn’t there yet. He might have squeaked by the dessert issue without any of the kids noticing if Natasha hadn’t brought it up. They might have completely forgotten, but now they were all looking at him expectantly. When he’d mentioned it before it was just as a way to get everyone to settle down, he hadn’t had anything specific in mind to use as a rewards system. Now that he was on the spot, he wasn’t even sure he had anything that could be considered a dessert.

After ducking into the kitchen, ( _not_ a retreat), and scouring all of the cupboards without finding one single thing that could be considered ‘dessert,’ Tony was almost resigned to ordering that in, too. Then he found a small rainbow striped box at the back of his freezer. Thank God for the occasional childish craving that led to odd 3am purchases.

“’Otter Pops’?” Steve read the box when Tony set it on the counter. “Isn’t that a little plain?”

“You kidding? These things are great, perfect for right after pizza!”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at the box as well. “I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have thought Otter Pops were your style.” He sounded amused, but not mocking. Tony grinned at him.

“I refer you back to my previous statement. In fact I take it a step further: they are _awesome_. Everyone should have a box in their freezer.”

Bruce chuckled, as did a few of the others. These were some of the moments that made Tony enjoy being part of a team. The camaraderie, as a whole was great, but it was the little things that seemed to really bring it into focus for him. He’d experienced camaraderie of a sort before, but with none of those past teams could he imagine sharing his love of Otter Pops and only getting chuckles in response.

After opening the box he held it out. “Okay, everybody, pick your favorite color!”

It took a while for the box to go around the group, and then they had to explain not only to the kids how to eat an Otter Pop – and not the plastic tube it was in – but Thor as well. Once that was sorted out the frozen treats seemed to be a hit, Thor going to far as to declare, “These are astoundingly good!” and immediately dig into another one. Tony ended up putting a three per person limit on them, though that was mostly for Thor, who seemed determined to eat the whole box at a go. He pouted a little, but gave in when Tony pointed out he should set a good example.

As the three kids finished off their last Pops – Fen seemed to like green, Jör orange and Hela blue – he set them up in the living room while they were still tractable and employed one of the oldest standbys of a babysitter: Television. He ordered JARVIS to allow only cartoons, then gave the kids instructions on how to change the channel until they found something they liked. That done, he headed back to the dining room and kitchen to try and sort out the mess.

* * *

__

### 6:27pm

__

* * *

After lunch the rest of the afternoon was surprisingly relaxed. The triplets, after spending some time surfing the selection of channels that JARVIS left available to them, stayed entertained by _The Pirates of Dark Water_. It was pretty old school, but Tony was pretty sure that television was a new thing for them, and they seemed to really be getting into the story of Prince Ren and his tiny crew, racing against the evil pirate Bloth to get the Thirteen Treasures of Rule. He didn’t look forward to the moment when they realized the story was never finished, though. No one ever took that very well.

While they were distracted, the chore of cleaning up was tackled. With seven of them working it didn’t take nearly as long as it could have, and the question of leftovers was handled as well. Tony had been thinking of spreading the love to the drones, but even if there were too many leftovers for one fridge, there wasn’t nearly enough for an entire department to share. Upon reflection, it would be a really dick move to send employees leftover pizza. He made a mental note to have a real pizza day for them on his dollar as a kind of apology for the almost slight. What was done with the leftovers instead, at a brilliant suggestion from Bruce, was to split the remaining pizzas between them. There would still be a lot, but it wouldn’t be unmanageable. 

After some figuring of who got what portions of which kind of pizza – there were a lot of rounds of Rock, Paper, Scissors going around – everyone scurried off with their shares to store in their own kitchens. Even Pepper took some with her when she left. Tony didn’t particularly want to see her go, it was comforting to have her around with all the crazy going on, but as she pointed out, she still had a company to run, regardless of the shenanigans going on at the Tower. She promised to leave her phone on at all times, even during meetings, and after a slightly embarrassing outpouring of thanks and praise from Tony, threatened to not answer it if he _did_ call. 

Tony was just starting to settle in with the triplets, clearing more of the boxes out of the way and hooking up the heating pad for Jör – who immediately clambered onto it and under a little throw blanket – when the elevator dinged, depositing Bruce and Steve on his carpet again. Before long all of the Avengers team was back and watching cartoons in his living room, spread out over his chewed up couches. It was a little weird, everyone sitting around and watching early nineties cartoons with three of Loki’s kids, but it was kinda homey, too. This was weird in and of itself. Tony wasn’t used to the homey thing, but it was nice. 

After the cartoons finished up – before the lack of conclusion, thankfully – the videogame consoles were brought out. It was interesting watching the byplay between everyone as they picked out games to play and, for more than half of them, were explained how to play them. The kids were completely new to the idea, Thor had only been shown some old Nintendo classics on a visit to New Mexico, and when Cap had last been in circulation the tech for even the most basic of games was still being fiddled with, thirty years out from anything civilians could play. Once everyone was on the same page, several hours were spent working their way through Tony’s game collection, usually with at least one of the kids playing each round. They were unexpectedly good at it, proving that children rocked the learning curve. Fen was best at racing simulations, Jör at general adventure games, and Hela was scary-good on the FPSs. 

After about three hours of cartoons and games he wondered if he should be putting a limit on TV time. That was what responsible adults did, right? But then he realized that if he did that, then he would have nothing else for the kids to really do except dive back into boxes crammed full of random toys. They would rapidly come back where they had been this morning. Tony wasn’t willing to deal with that again, so on the TV stayed. Next time, after he’d gotten a better grip on how to structure a day – and if Loki left him with schoolwork or something for the kids – then he would worry about putting a limit on the games. For now, it was just too damned handy.

Right about when six o’clock rolled around was when Steve pointed out that they should start thinking about getting dinner together. Tony’s looked at the clock and quietly cursed. He’d hoped that Loki, wherever he was and whatever he was doing, would have been back by now. He hadn’t given Tony any sort of guide as to when he would be back, and the longer the day stretched with no sign of him, the more Tony worried that this was going to turn into more than one day gig. He was getting to like the runts, sure, but he wasn’t sure he was prepared to have them in the Tower for a week.

He tried not to consider the possibility that had been squatting like a toad on the edge of his mind since Thor had told him that he would become the triplets’ permanent ‘father’ if Loki failed to come back. No way was Loki not going to survive some chores the Allfather had laid on him, and there were certain to be laws preventing him from just leaving the kids with Tony… right?

He shook his head. No! Not thinking about it!

Leaving the bulk of the group in the living room playing the competition rounds on _Viva Piñata Party Animals_ , Tony snuck off to the kitchen, dragging Steve along with him. It’s not like he was keeping up with the colorful, mile-a-minute gameplay anyway, and he was the genius who’d brought the subject up.

Once they were what he would consider a safe distance away, Tony turned on him. “Okay,” he began. “You’ve probably got more experience with this kind of thing than I do. Two order-in meals in a row would probably be a bad thing, right?”

Steve snorted. “I’m not sure what kind of experience you think I have that you lack when it comes to meals, Stark. I was in the Army.” He tilted his head. “But yeah, fast food twice in one day should probably be avoided.”

“You had a life before the call to arms, Cap, is why I’m asking you. Most of the meals I remember as a kid were controlled by the nutritionist at the boarding school.”

For a second Steve looked chastened. “Sorry.”

Tony waved his hand. The two of them had gone round and round a few times already, and probably would continue to do so for a long time. Try as he might Tony couldn’t let old grudges go and just like the guy. But now wasn’t one of those times to start a pissing match. “Forget about it. Bigger issues now. Such as: What the hell do we do for a second meal?”

“How about spaghetti?”

They both looked around to see Bruce had followed them into the kitchen. He’d probably done so to act as a buffer between him and Steve, a role he had taken on a few times. Tony had never really understood it, why the guy who had to stay calm at all times always put himself between the two who insisted on throwing down the most. At first Tony thought he was using himself as a threat, forcing them to knock it off or risk the Other Guy showing up, but the more it happened the more he thought it really was just Bruce, as himself, trying to keep peace in the group. Somehow that thought was more effective for keeping him ‘playing nice’ than a possible Hulk tantrum.

“Spaghetti?”

Bruce nodded, positioning himself so he was between Tony and Steve. “Sure. It’s a kind of pasta, I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Strong Italian affiliations, starting with having originated _in_ Italy…”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Thanks, I know what spaghetti is.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Steve said thoughtfully. “Easy to make, easy to make a _lot_ of it for a large group, and just about everybody on the planet likes spaghetti.”

“Hopefully the same holds true for those who didn’t originate from this planet,” Bruce said with a grin. “Plus spaghetti is a dish the kids might enjoy helping to fix up.”

“Seems kind of plain, though, doesn’t it?”

Steve shrugged. “Then we add some meatballs, sauce and garlic bread. Full blown meal, then.”

“Add a small salad on the side,” Bruce put in. “Gotta get some veggies in these kids, too. We’re certainly holding to a theme, though! Pizza and pasta, all Italian food.”

Tony cast a despairing look over his kitchen cupboards. There was food in them, he knew there was. There were people who made sure that he was always stocked up on the basics. He just wasn’t sure what their concept of ‘the basics’ consisted of. He hardly ever went looking through them save for cereal or booze. When he was hungry he went out to eat, ordered in, grabbed something ready to eat – such as cereal – or more recently, joined in on group meals the team had from time to time. He couldn’t cook even when he tried, which he had done on occasion. He could fashion machines together like a boss, but food? Nada. “We sure we got everything we need for that?”

“Between six kitchens, Tony?” Bruce turned a grin on Steve, who returned it easily. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’ve got it covered.”

It was only fifteen minutes later that Tony’s kitchen became the center of activity once again, with Steve and Bruce, the team’s unofficial chefs, in the thick of it. The kids did jump in to help – the boys did, anyway, mixing up the sauce, shaping the meatballs and buttering up French loaves with a garlic mix. Hela watched from a side, unwilling to get her hands into it. Since she was so quiet and interested, Tony let her be.

The meal was good, and went smoother than lunch had. Everyone stayed human the whole time, and there was a minimum of sauce splatters considering four people at the table were dealing with long spaghetti noodles for the first time. After plates were cleared away Natasha surprised them with little bowls of vanilla ice cream. Tony suspected that it was an olive branch she was extending to them, and chose not to call her out on it. She’d stayed true to her word, remained in the building and JARVIS had yet to catch any attempt to communicate with S.H.I.E.L.D., so he could managed _not_ being a dick.

After a big dinner of pasta and a little dessert of ice cream, topped with chocolate or caramel sauce and some chopped nuts that were shoved at the back of one of Tony’s cabinets, each of the kids, after sitting back down in the living room, zoned out almost immediately. They showed no interest in the videogames or in watching more cartoons. It wasn’t too surprising, he supposed. He wasn’t sure how long they had been awake, but they’d been up since dawn, at least, and now the sun was making its way towards the western horizon. _He_ was starting to feel sleepy, and he wasn’t a kid who’d been wound up like a rubber band all day long.

Remembering that bedtimes were something Loki had actually written about in his note, Tony found it again and scanned it. It wasn’t too helpful, only saying that when they got sleepy to just let them sleep, rather than trying to keep them awake. Well, they were sleepy now, so he should let them sleep. But on the couches?

He hadn’t given this part too much thought, really. Even while he was worried that the triplets would be staying with him for more than a day, he hadn’t considered the logistics of it. He didn’t have a guestroom on his floor. He had a guest _floor_ , but he wasn’t going to have three six year olds on a floor all by themselves. Besides, while Loki hadn’t been too clear on what _time_ they should be in bed, he _was_ clear that they shouldn’t be alone, and he was pretty sure Loki meant actually sleeping in the same room with them. That would mean either letting them camp out in his bed with him, or him sleeping out in the living room on a couch with them. 

He wasn’t even sure if there were any sets of pajamas in the boxes that Pepper had brought or if it was all day clothes. 

Recruiting everyone but Bruce, who stayed with the zonking out triplets, Tony set about collecting every spare blanket and pillow from all six floors, and stripped his own bed down to the mattress. His living room was arranged in a kind of doughnut that was slightly recessed into the floor, with the couches forming the outside ring. Rather than setting up each of the children in their own little space on the couches and himself somewhere along the line to keep them company – and to keep an eye on them, he had no idea what their nighttime behaviors were like – he had the brilliant idea to make a giant nest in the center with the pillows and blankets. The kids were already trying to huddle on top of each other in a pile, which if done on the couches would result in one of them falling on the floor eventually, and his figured with this setup he would have an easier time of keeping tabs on everybody.

Getting everyone ready for bed ran aground almost as soon as it began. A cursory look through all of the clothing boxes revealed that no, there were no PJs to be had, so there was nothing to change them into for sleep. There weren’t any toothbrushes, either, simply because Tony hadn’t thought to ask Pepper to pick up any. And since there had been messy faces after spaghetti and ice cream, cleanup had already been taken care of. All that really needed to be done was removing shoes before settling into the piles of blankets and cushions. Tony left Hela’s hoodie in place, but put away Jör’s heating pad, hoping his siblings and the layers of blankets would be just as good. 

With all of the dishes done, the living room set up as a makeshift campsite and the kids tucked into a corner of it all, quickly drifting away – only a few weak protests coming out of them – the rest of the team finally started heading out. There were a few concerned looks sent to the triplets as they began taking their leave, most notably from Natasha and Clint. Tony tried not to tense, but decided at the same time to get JARVIS to beef up the security on the two of them as soon as they were out of earshot. Natasha probably hadn’t thought that the kids would be around for so long, that she would be kept from reporting to S.H.I.E.L.D. for so long, and her patience – and her trustworthiness as an extension – was wearing thin. She would be pissed if she found out about it, but if she did it would be because she had either tried to leave or to alert S.H.I.E.L.D. at a distance, in which case Tony could be pissed right back.

Before anyone could enter the elevator, though, Tony found himself surrounded by three bleary eyed children. They all looked incredibly sleepy, barely able to keep their eyes open, but with a determined look that made Tony inexplicably nervous. “Uh, what’s up kids?”

They looked at each other, uncertain. Eventually, to Tony’s surprise, it was Hela who spoke up. “Can you… tell us a story?”

Tony blinked. Oh hell, now a story? He didn’t know any good stories off the top of his head… and he had seen the books that were considered in the ‘five to ten’ range that Pepper had picked up, and doubted that any of them would hold their interest. He groaned a little. “Can’t you sleep without a story for tonight?”

Hela ducked her head, shaking it quickly from side to side. A look from Fen to Jör told him that they felt the same way. He sighed. He didn’t know any good story-stories, and he wasn’t about to bust out any of the books that were packed in the stacks to read to them, which left him with stories from life. Unfortunately the only good story he could think of from life, their father had been the villain. Tony may not have been very experienced when it came to children, but that was definitely a bad idea. Things were complicated enough without having the little ones mired in moral ambiguity as well. If they weren’t already.

Jör had shifted closer to him as he was thinking, almost into his lap to reach up and tap the arc reactor in his chest. As they had prepared for sleep, Tony had JARVIS dim the lights slowly so that there was still enough to see, but everyone had to walk carefully to avoid tripping over anything in the shadows. The sun had finally set some time ago, the city lighting up in an earthbound galaxy of stars. With it that dark, and with Tony _still_ in the tank he’d woken up in, the glow from the reactor was very easy to see. The boy tapped it again. “Tell us about this. What is it?”

 _Ah_. Well, it was a story that didn’t involve putting their father into the role of a mad, evil, murderous war monger, so that was an improvement on _his_ best idea, at least. He was a little leery of telling a story that was about his personal Achilles heel, but he could gloss over some details. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to relive the series of events that led to getting his shiny chest piece. His past as a weapons maker, his injuries, his capture and imprisonment… Yinsen’s death… He hadn’t gone over those events in full with anyone. Bits and pieces, sure, but a coherent story from start to finish?

He looked up, suddenly conscious that he wasn’t alone with the kids. Five pairs of eyes were watching him with interest. He knew they were aware of the basics of what his reactor was and how he had gotten it, but he also knew that for most of them the details were very sparse. He scowled up at them. “Weren’t you guys turning in for the night?”

Clint was the one who replied, grinning and hopping back onto one of the couches. “Not if there’s a story, Uncle Tony!”

The others, despite the glower he was leveling at them, seemed to agree, taking positions around the blanket nest without getting into it. Seeing that they were determined to stay, Tony sighed, looked back down at his smaller audience. His expression softened for them. They were looking at him almost pleadingly, an unknown drive giving them an earnestness he hadn’t seen in them before. “You sure you want to hear that story?”

Three little heads nodded. Tony refused to look over and confirm what he thought he saw as several teammates also nodding at him. If he was going to tell this story, then the key was going to be in telling it for the kids and not his team that sometimes acted like kids. He took a deep breath and focused on them, deliberately blocking out the peanut gallery on the couches.

“Okay, then. Settle in.” After a few scuffling moments of fishing up the best pillows to pile around themselves and gather around Tony’s knees, he had an attentive audience waiting. “First,” he said, lifting up the front of his tank. “This is called an arc reactor, and it protects my heart.”

The blue light from the reactor shone on three upturned faces. They each stared, fascinated by the round glowing bit of metal stuck in the center of his chest. He let them stare until their eyes came back up to his face, and lowered his shirt again. “It’s a little different now from when I first got it a few years ago. There have been a lot of improvements since the very first reactor, but without that first one I would have died a long time ago in the desert.” He paused, deciding where to start. “So I guess, uh… Once upon a time, I used to make weapons for… for warriors. I thought that the weapons I made were used for protecting my people, making them safer. But one day, when I travelled to where the battles were being fought, I saw that things were very different…”

And so Tony rambled on, telling them the tale of his time in the desert. He glossed over areas that would be too boring or make the story too long – such as Obadiah’s involvement – and made sure to dress up the Ten Rings as truly worthy villains. He thought about dumbing down come portions, but decided not to when the time came. These were smart kids, and if they looked confused he could always pause to clarify. It all stayed in; his injury, Yinsen’s saving him, the Ten Rings forcing him to create a weapon for them in return for his life. How he and Yinsen had toiled for months to build not a weapon, but a suit that would save them, right under the collective noses of the Ten Rings, as they watched. He told them how the Ten Rings got impatient, and he and Yinsen had to escape immediately. He relived the whole daring escape from beginning to end. He remembered the rush of using the very first Iron Man suit, literally put together with pieces of his old weapons, his old life, to reclaim a new one. He saw, in his mind’s eye, Yinsen die again, giving his life so Tony could have a chance of escape. He felt, as he did then, his damaged heart seize.

When it came time to find an appropriate ending for the story, Tony chose to end when he returned to Gulmira with the Mark III and avenged Yinsen’s death, driving the Ten Rings out of his home village. 

By the time he finished up it was close to ten o’clock and all three of the children were asleep, snoring softly. During the tale they had migrated somewhat, Jör still curled up by one of his knees, Fen beside one shoulder after Tony had leaned back, and Hela had somehow snuck into his lap without his noticing, curled up in one arm and clutching his shirt. In other words, he was effectively pinned. He looked down at himself, trying to think of a way out without waking up one or all of the kids… but it was a hopeless case. He was effectively stuck for the night. At least he wouldn’t get cold. 

His teammates, after a few whispered ‘good nights,’ left with a minimum amount of giggling. Thor and Steve even took the time to make sure each of the kids had a blanket over them before they left. 

Once he was alone, or relatively alone, Tony quietly reset JARVIS with some fresh instructions – tighter security on Clint and Natasha for now, alert him if any of the children displayed abnormal vitals during the night or if they woke before he did, and a late wakeup call with a gentle reintroduction of sunlight. He seriously doubted he would be allowed to sleep as late as he wanted, but if by some miracle the kids _didn’t_ wake him up first, he didn’t want an alarm doing it instead. 

Pausing long enough to reflect on the strangeness of the day, the greater strangeness of ending it buried under a pile of kids in his living room, and to wonder when Loki was going to decide to show his narrow butt again, Tony drifted off to sleep.

* * *

__

### 3:12am

__

* * *

Tony Stark was not a morning person. Neither was he an evening or a night person. It all depended on how much sleep he had gotten before waking that determined his mood and general ability to interact civilly with other human beings. As had been demonstrated so well that morning, when he didn’t get his bare minimum of six hours and was woken roughly, he tended to rise violently and would be grinding gears until he got his hands wrapped around some coffee.

But that didn’t mean that it was impossible for Tony to wake before that six hour minimum and be alert. Adrenaline was even better than caffeine to get Tony conscious, every nerve alive and mind clear and running on all cylinders, and after Afghanistan he was programmed to wake in that state in response to certain triggers. 

He wasn’t sure what it was that had woken him out of his dreamless slumber. It was completely dark in the apartment now save for the glow of the arc reactor through the thin fabric of his tank top. He could still feel all three of the kids in contact with his body, Jör at his right hip, Hela curled up in the crook of his left arm, and Fen, twitching in his dreams at his right shoulder. In the darkness he could make out four sets of breathing and differentiate which was which, but couldn’t hear anything else. Without moving he scanned the apartment through slitted eyes. He could make out nothing save the vague suggestion of shapes, places where the darkness became deeper, more pronounced, here the curve of a couch, there the line of the television.

He knew there was someone in the room. Something had woken him, some sound or change in the room that brought him fully awake, but now there was nothing. He might have put it down to one of the triplets whining or snorting in their sleep, except he could _feel_ someone in the room with them. The familiar, uncomfortable pressure of being watched was heavy on him, and he wasn’t about to fall asleep again until he found out where it was coming from. Without moving he tried to work out how to get out from underneath three children and a tangle of blankets quickly. 

“From the looks of things,” came a voice, pitched low and nearly stopping Tony’s heart, “I would say that the day went tolerably well.”

A second glow came to life in the darkness, directly in front of Tony from one of the couches. In the cold, white-blue light the shape of Loki slowly melted out of the shadows, his whole frame having been disguised by the furniture’s bulk. His eyes were locked on Tony, expression unreadable in the murkiness of the room. One arm was slightly raised, a sphere of fuzzy luminescence held in his fingers. Tony, after taking a breath to steady his wildly beating heart, stared at the light for a moment, wondering what it was before entirely remembering _who_ it was that was holding it. It almost had to be magic.

He took another breath, forcing himself to relax into the pillows and examined Loki as best he could in the poor light. He was no longer in his helm and armor, he could see that much. It looked like he was wearing clothing similar to what Thor would wear around the Tower, but cut to cover more of his skin, and in darker colors. Since the light was bluish it was hard to tell if his skin was paler than usual or if it was just a trick of the glow. He didn’t think that the bruising around one eye was a trick of the light, though. He’d come back in one piece from wherever he had been, but not quite unscathed. Tony wondered what other injuries he sported that he couldn’t see.

“Hi, honey,” he said, quietly so as not to wake up the kids. “How was work?”

Tony was rewarded with a smirk, which he took as a good sign. He couldn’t be too badly hurt if he was able to smile at weak teases. “Better than expected, worse than it could have been,” he replied ambiguously. “Nothing I could not handle.” His gaze shifted, looking over his children arranged around Tony like throw pillows. “And here? I assume all went smoothly as there are no obvious fires or craters in evidence.”

Tony looked down at Hela, the easiest of the three for him to see, who was still clutching a fistful of his shirt in a gloved hand. He wanted to berate Loki for dumping his kids in his lap, completely out of the blue and taking off again, for pulling a kind of ‘run-by domesticity’ act. He knew he wanted to, because he could remember composing his rant while Fen had been ripping up pillows with his teeth, while trying to get Jör out from behind the dryer, or struggling to get Hela to say even a single word during the earliest part of the day. He could recall the frustration, confusion and anger that had fueled some very creative insults, even if he couldn’t remember half of what he had actually come up with. 

The problem, though, was that while he could _remember_ it, he no longer really _felt_ any of it. He was still annoyed, sure, and there were still plenty of questions that needed to be answered, but… maybe he’d just been worn down by the day. None of it seemed as important now, and all he could really dredge up when he thought back on his very long day were little things. Like how Fen had followed Clint around like a shadow, how Jör had dived beneath the blankets of their current nest, burrowing between the pillows, or how Hela’s one green eye had lit up when she’d tried her first Otter Pop. Remembering those, and what seemed like hundreds of more moments like them, it was hard to feel angry.

He shrugged as well he could from his pinned position. “Pretty well, I guess. We had pizza for lunch and spaghetti for dinner. We watched cartoons and played videogames. Fen needs chew toys and Jör likes heating pads… and Hela loves her tablet. They all met the team, and I’m pretty sure Jör has taken a shine to Pepper. Fen may have done the same with Barton. All three of them love Bruce, but none of them took to Rogers.”

Loki, who had listened to all of this with a mystified expression, smiled, looking at his sleeping kids with a hint of pride. “That doesn’t surprise me,” he murmured. “The soldier is too… chaste, I think, for them to trust.”

Tony chuckled. “I think I can sympathize, then.” He paused. Loki was here to take the triplets back, there was no doubt, putting an end to this business as abruptly as it had begun. If he wanted to get any real answers to his stock of questions, then now would be the time to ask them. There was no guarantee that Loki would answer any of them, but it was the best option he had. Thor either couldn’t or wouldn’t answer some of the most burning questions Tony had, so it was now or… the next time he saw Loki. Whenever that happened to be.

However, what actually came out of Tony’s mouth was, “Thor told me about the ‘temporary guardian’ thing you laid on me. How much of an honor it was and all of the responsibilities that come with it.”

Even in the darkness, Tony could see how Loki’s face became very still. “Did he?” he asked, voice so cold Tony imagined he could see ice hanging in the air.

He nodded. “Yup.”

There was a long, loaded silence. Loki stared at Tony, waiting for the interrogation to begin. When Tony failed to barrage him with queries, his dark eyes narrowed at him. “… Are you not curious? Will you not question me about it at all?”

Tony pursed his lips, thinking. “Someday,” he said eventually. “Maybe. If I haven’t figured it out for myself by then.” Loki looked surprised, his narrowed eyes going a little wide. To be honest, Tony was surprised at himself. But… From what Thor had told him, Loki had extended a huge amount of trust to him, even more than had been immediately apparent when he’d dropped off his children in his living room. For whatever reason he had chosen Tony, even though they were – or had been – enemies, and he could have easily taken all three of them to S.H.I.E.L.D., or just allowed one of his teammates do the same. He’d picked Tony, a dangerous enemy at face value, over Thor, his brother who stood by him staunchly even when Loki was at his worst. Tony had no idea why the Trickster had picked him, what it was that made him trust Tony with so much… so the least he could do was return that trust. To an extent. He would trust whatever reasoning had brought Loki here, what had made him decide he was a safe guardian / second father for his three children, and not demand to know what those reasons were. Loki would tell him when he was good and ready, or Tony would deduce it on his own.

“Next time, though, give me a little warning before bringing the munchkins,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ll have things cub and snake-proofed a little better with even fifteen minutes notice.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “You believe there will _be_ a next time?”

Tony froze, and cast a quick look at the kids before he could stop himself. “Well… yeah? The guardian-thing sounded like a permanent gig, so I sort of assumed that I would be seeing you and the little ones again…”

Loki’s expression didn’t change. “Would you be troubled should you never see the children again?”

Suddenly feeling caught in a question that was deeper than the surface of it showed, Tony’s tongue became clay. “Well, I- uh… I… wouldn’t say no… I mean if it came up?”

The Trickster God allowed him to stew a little longer, and then a small smile touched his lips. “Yes, Stark, it will come up again. There are still many more tasks for me to fulfill, a long way to pay my debt. We will see you again before too long.”

Tony couldn’t help it. He grinned at that small promise of having the triplets with him, when not even twenty-four hours earlier he would have dreaded it entirely. It had been a long day, with plenty of changes, and not all of them wrought on his décor.

Gently, the two of them roused the kids enough to stand. Loki was confused by Jör’s change of clothes, but smiled after Tony explained about the pizza. They found their shoes, and Tony insisted that they each take something with them. For Hela it was her tablet, for Jör the heating pad, and for Fen the bow and arrow set he and Clint had been playing with. They said their goodbyes – Tony got three little hugs – and his heart nearly melted when Fen turned to his father and asked if they could visit again soon.

They were just finished with their leave taking, everyone all lined up for whatever sort of teleportation Loki would do to get them out of the Tower, when Loki paused.

“Stark?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you have a cage with two dozen mice on your coffee table?”

**Author's Note:**

> 'Extra Dry, Extra Olives' has kind of become my internal theme for the kids… I know it's for a romantic scene between Tony and Pep, but this is the music that I think of when I think of them.
> 
> Surnames: Technically these aren't 'surnames' but patronymics and a matronymic. It was tempting to just give each of the kids the last name 'Lokison' or 'Lokisdottir', but I was good and did the research of how surnames were actually created back in the day, and after reading all of the rules and such was left with 'Lokason' and 'Angrbodudóttir'. The letter differences are based on what the last letter of the name that comes before the added 'son' or 'dóttir', and daughters are named in honor of their mother's rather than their fathers. And as for why give them last names at all when it's not in keeping with the lore? Because I felt like it. :P
> 
> Guardian: So far as I am aware, there is no historical evidence of this actually occurring. This was just something I invented for the sake of story.
> 
> Future Stories: As I've said, this is just the first installment in a planned series of one-shots centering around Tony, Loki and the triplets. Most of them (hopefully) won't be nearly as long as this one was. Why do this as a series rather than just one long fic? Well, because the scene I plan to write are fairly widespread across the timeline, and doing it this way provides me with a handy excuse to just write the parts that interest me without having to fill in everything in between. Plus, if I get to the end and decide I want to write something that would have happened in the middle, it's much easier to go back and insert a one-shot into the timeline rather than a chapter or two and repair the continuity damage. :)
> 
> Continuity Disclaimer: This is going to be a standard disclaimer attached to every fic I post that has to do with the Avengers, so everyone knows where I'm coming from in terms of characters and world canon.
> 
> For the most part, assume that I am coming from only the movies. Iron Man 1 & 2, The Incredible Hulk, Thor, Captain America, and Avengers. I realize that I'm missing out on worlds of story and character development, but I would be starting from square one and 50+ years of backstory, (each individual character's series(es), the team series(es) and any/all crossovers or notable appearances), is more than a little daunting. So as much as I want to know everything about everything – trust me, this is really frustrating for me – I just can't. I'm picking my battles and this one is a 'nope.' So as a result my Avengers fics will not have 'comic book depth' to them. Sorry.
> 
> What will they have? The movies, of course, one or two short comic arcs that I've been convinced to pick up that will have little to no effect on the continuity, Norse mythology – since I do read that – and any details that I can pick up from other fans or that I research on my own. The result of all of this is usually going to be a sort of fusion that hopefully works and isn't too confounding for anyone. :)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, everyone, I'll see you again soon! :D


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